In Charm's Way
by A.W. LeMonte
Summary: AU: Reality is subjective. Be it personal or be it objective. We only see as much as we know and understand even less. Inquiry is the only real way to see life differently when tempered by realization. Step into the life of a "known" character to see how much you really know. Walk in her shoes, see how they fit, and how you feel. M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Alternate History with Main Canon Events in Place to ground the characters. This is the remaking of one of my first works with fanfiction. But life has changed me, experience has changed me, and people in my life have changed me but most importantly God has changed me. This is a new vision to be used to reflect on all that I have learned from all the people, experiences, and challenges especially in coming chapters. Please read and enjoy. -Lemonte.**

A Charm's Obsession

Chapter One

When it began, she was not entirely sure. She knew only that it started around the time when she was six years old. She was with her father in the grand council chamber. The impression of the great room made a profound impact. Marvelous in its construction the floor of embossed bronze, the seats of the circle made of copper. The pillars majestic and towering made of white marble with gold at the base and top. She remembered the braziers of fire that burned on either side of the seats and the grand opening of the dome allowing the sun to anoint the council in radiant warmth in the day and the gentle glow of the moon at night.

She remembered those men and women of the council united fondly. Many men and women of similar mind, united in goal despite motivations differing within them. She remembered their faces and voices most. Not realizing at the time, she was afforded the precious opportunity to witness the very process by which the society of her nation pressed forward, how the groans of time, the ebb and flow in constant tug-of-war reflecting human want and struggle dictated the very pace in either progression or regression in turn. The Council would debate often lasting well into the night even into the early morning. It was not arguing points into exhaustion or counter-arguing to the same effect. Instead, it was what she came to realize very early on. The nature of people both wanting a slice of pie and learning to somewhat sacrifice their wants to the more significant cause, to the more beneficial long-term effect.

Her father, a prominent voice on this council was her world. Her father was renowned as a man of conviction and sincerity. He saw the weakness. Indeed what she later realized as the broken nature of the world in which they resided. He saw, and she knew he did his best to address these problems. He was not alone, for his friend Ethrian was a great supporter and one she considered to be family. A kind man and a bit silly at times but when needed was who her father turned to. The two had been friends since boyhood and were inseparable. Her father served as the healthy muscle and military statesman while Ethrian was, in fact, the counselor, the rationalizer, the "godly-minded" as said in either praise or disdain by other members of the Council.

At the time when she was five, she did remember a shift in the Council. She could feel the people didn't entirely respect her father at times. Even those she desired to call friends and who at one time were friends, now cast her off or ignored her entirely. Time and time again, she was told, "Hope, sweetheart, please sit next to Ethrian. She did, and she was admittedly bored. Ethrian was mostly silent, not playing with her as some would even to keep her amused. His gaze was steady on her father his hands always joined, and in his eyes, she could see either praise or disdain by turns as her father spoke to the Council. Seldom did Ethrian speak in the Council, but as many knew of him, was mostly silent. But she could see behind his hands usually in front of his mouth was a sneer at some of the other council member and the look on his face and in his eyes was what could only be best described as the visage of a waiting wolf.

One night, Hope sneaked back downstairs after one particular day of heated debate to listen to her father and Erithan speak. It had been a tumultuous evening as her father did not even touch most of the food that was his favorite set of dishes. She could see something very much weighed on his mind. To better get an idea she knew she could listen in on the late-night discussion. She knew late at night, her father and Erithhan would often discuss until midnight. Her father was at times angry with the Council stating their stagnant minds, their antiquated position as to how select systems of government should be run. Her father would go on and on in such a manner for a better part of twenty-five minutes. All the while, she observed Erithan sat on a divan and watched her father never blinking it seemed and his mouth in a semi-bemused smile. When her father had calmed down, Erithan would typically stay silent for a moment, but this night he was different.

"Dearest brother, why are you so flustered? You knew this was coming. I told you as much a while ago. Are you surprised by their hard-headedness or is it that they disappointed you in that when you pointed out their flaws you thought that because you did so, it would change how they do things?" Erithan was silent as he waited for the reply.

Her father looked at Erithan, "I thought honestly if I called them out on what is frankly shit that they would realize they cannot hide from the likes of us and because we see their actions as they are, transparent, yes. Yes, I did think it would make a few to reconsider why and how they did things."

Erithian smiled, "Well you did get what you wanted but not the way you wanted it. See sure; you can show someone what they do. Brother, it's a risky move. Because largely what happens is this, that in fact in showing someone this is what you see, you show that you are not ignorant of what they do. Okay so, in reality, the effect you desired, it isn't like it didn't happen just not how you wanted or intended it to happen. As opposed to having people stop what they are doing, the stuff you addressed today, well it didn't and won't work. You know this, a child is only sorry if they are caught at something. The same is easily said of adult people. They are no better than children in this regard. The counterargument being, as is what is happening in the Council, you do not have sorry people. Rather you have adaptive people. They see you see their shit; they see you see how they do it. So, their solution is to work on the pre-existing model and refine it and if that doesn't work, they will kill you. Tis' better to silence a voice opposed than uproot an entire system and for many what is a way of life."

Her father seemed angry, but he nodded, "But what do they do that, Erithan?"

"Because they are mortal men and women. They are mankind that are comfortable in their sinful way. They do not see the need to change because what you and I may see as the conviction of them for the evil they do; they see no evil in what they do. Because why? It is an element that plays into mankind's many "allowances or compromises" indeed into his nature at large. Mankind will take a short-cut every time. You know this. None are ever of the mindset to do things the right way; we are always looking for loopholes. If caught in the hole we are unceasing in our many justifications and reasoning because we do not wish to be found out, because we fear physical punishment or condemnation by others who usually are our peers held in regard higher than others."

Her father's gaze sharpened, "Every proposition I have put before them, they have shot down, every suggestion over the past few years. It is fucking pissing me off is what it does! Oh, but to hear the likes of Angela Teresa speak, oh they fawn over her. What you and I are doing is to perfect and even get rid of the elements of the old orders that what I felt we all once held in common accord as to be done away with. But no, no longer that! No, now suddenly we're both the rabid people because someone far prettier comes along who probably screws half the council and sways votes or drags out the debate for ages." He rose up and poured himself a large glass of scotch with ice.

Erithan watched her father and sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "You know why this is happening. I know you do, but if you wish me to, I'll tell you why to save from the harm of self-realization."

Her father looked at him and took a large gulp of whiskey, "Go on."

"You and I have focused on getting rid of the old ways. The people on the Council do not share our views so much anymore because frankly, they are cowards. They are weak-willed too much so to voice their opinion. As snakes, they slither in shadow to probe us for weakness because they refuse to acknowledge their feebleness. What's more, as we both know many people benefit from the old system. Particularly of the Council as their power and say-so and influence, and indeed everything they hold dear in their vain minds. Yes, there is no denying point blank that the system adored by these men and women is that of the "slave driver" it is oppression of the many for the pleasure of the few. And even then, they do not and will never admit they utilize oppression. "We give you employment; we give you pay, we give you your purpose utilizing your skills." Yes, this is on the surface true. However, the employment is back-breaking if not altogether destructive to the laborer. The pay is minimal for the effort put into the work and physical damages suffered from overwork at times. Utilizing your skill, yes but only after admitting there was a very in-depth selection process which they desired to attain the most skilled and most durable in one to make more use of his strength than skill.

My point is simply this, Angela only has power because she knows we are the dissenting voice against the majority, and she offers the majority the way out through popular agreement. We are the underdogs and will inevitably be defeated. Because the Council was not for us, or our vision, and never was. They humored us because we are our father's sons. We came from their view but no longer do we share it. In truth, the observer may well argue, we are not greater than they because we used our connections to get into the Council. However, we are higher than they on moral and ethical victory. We are of privilege to a point, we not grand dukes or anything on that rank. However, the power we have tried to utilize to shape a better future for the people. The Council does not wish this as it genuinely disrupts their system by which they are the primary beneficiary. That is why this is the way it is."

Hope could see the sadness and anger on her father's face. Erithan rose from the divan and with the grace of a swan and silent dutiful nature of the ant, he walked towards her father and removed the whiskey from his hand and put it on the table.

Erithan sat across from her father, "Spellbinder, you know what is coming, and you know what you need to do. I know your anger and your fear of what is to come. You see it, I see it, even if those proud fools do not see it. The writing is on the wall, and we all see it. Have you made the necessary preparations?"

Spellbinder nodded, "I could only secure one of us for transit. You know the sticklers the earthlings are regarding regulations and all that. Combined with the bribes and other legal procurements, I hated how my hands were largely tied."

Erithan, "I more than understand. With the pacing going faster than either of us anticipated we know it's coming. Mind me when I tell you, it's coming."

Hope did not precisely know what it was at the time, but it didn't take long to reveal itself. She remembered however after this late-night discussion, over weeks, she was barred from the Grand Council. Erithan stayed with her and amused her, and as she asked him what was happening, she remembered how frustrated he was with his answers. Neither evasive nor direct. But he continued to entertain her by reading plays and even taking her to mid-evening operas in the cultural center of the city. But she was very much afraid of what she had heard that night. She could even see on Erithan a form of slight unease. A man who was usually quite calm was somewhat on edge.

This atmosphere of apprehension was only further compounded as she realized that select elements of her own home seemed to disappear. It hurt her father and mother to separate with various items and heirlooms as the separation was obvious on their face that they were parting with an aspect of long-held legacy. That pain she came to know for herself when a beautiful dining set was sold. She, even though young, did indeed in her heart yearn to one day have such a set to use. The plates of fine-bone china with elegant gold trim. The cutlery made of embroidered gold and chased silver, the goblets of fine gold and jewels. It hurt not only her but her mother. The dining set was sold for a very tidy sum, and she remembered the money being handed over to her uncle, Hex.

She looked at the anguish all of this caused her mother and her father even though they did the very best to hide this from Hope herself. But as she heard Erithan tell to both later that night as she pretended to be asleep, "Sentimentality at this point will kill you and those you love, they in a sense bank on that. However, remember what I told you. This is equally a measure of your character for yourselves as it is a measure of character in the eyes of wolves circling you. Nothing you told me is too great to sacrifice in the long run for the very great chance you yearn for. You need to remember that, both of you." 

The next day was different than any other. Hex came and brought Hope to one of her favorite restaurants, and he ordered her whatever she wanted to eat. She ate, but she was understandably questioning of just what all was going on. Hex did not look easy himself as he was continually looking at the great clock behind her. She half wanted to ask again what was happening but remembered how evasive many were when people asked either side-stepping or if not changing the topic. So, she decided best not to ask anything.

She ate silently but watched Hex. He did not even touch his much-loved lime and orange sorbet; instead, his eyes went in a shift from her to the clock, repeatedly every two minutes. She could tell he was nervous, but he did his best to keep up appearances. He tried to engage her on a conversation about things he felt mattered to her. The attempt was of a mixed result as Hex was not always around her nor her family and was more of what she would later come to call, "the pop-in uncle." However, she tried her best to engage him on a few things of what he tried to bring up.

Then the bells of The Great Spire began to ring. Hex's eyes went wide, and he gasped, "Something's wrong."

He took Hope's hand and led her running out of the restaurant after slamming down a few coins. Hope remembered the alarm. The people talking among each other confused at first and then the yells from down the way.

A man came from a side-street "Master Archimedes! Master Archimedes!"

Hex turned to the man, "What is it?"

"Master, the Council was in a massive uproar! Master, Erithan is gone! They stabbed him to death!"

Hope's eyes went wide open, but Hex took her and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and said, "Mobilize the Consulate Guard and have the conspirators placed under arrest! Have Terrath tell Spellbinder meet at Torsolino Cove! CLEAR OUT!" The man nodded and darted off.

Hex ran with Hope faster than she ever knew he could run. They covered some distance, and then they came to a cave where a young woman was waiting inside a boat. He put Hope down into the boat and greedily drank from the fresh spring cascading down the nearby wall.

"I heard the news when the bells pealed." The woman said, "I'm so sorry, Archimedes. I know how much you admired him."

Hex looked at the woman, his eyes both sad and enraged, "Now is not the time for tears. My brother is coming here as per the agreement, but if he does not show in ten minutes, you know what to do."

The woman nodded and took out a sand timer and started the countdown. Hope herself now was much afraid. She saw Hex was angry and nervous. Soon fast-approaching footsteps could be heard accompanied by the whir of a wheel and in entered a young man with a cart bearing bundles. He threw them to Hex who put them neatly into the boat around Hope. The man then brought out a large wood case which too was set in next to Hope. Hex looked at the man, and the young man tearfully embraced him.

"Goodbye," said the man, "I will do everything just as you've told me. And though I may never see you again, I will never forget you. And we'll pray for you, my master, my friend."

Hope could see the agony in her uncle as he silently wept. He collected himself, and he said, "Go, go, sweet Marius. Go before they find you."

Marius to leave and Hex said, "Marius!" the man turned to him, "I love you, my brother, give the chest to your sister for you both to use in this dark time to come."

Marius came and embraced Hex one last time and kissed his chest upon his heart and then darted out and disappeared. Hope looked to the timer, almost half gone now. She wondered and then said it loudly, "Where is Daddy?"

Hex looked at her and replied, "He'll hopefully be here soon." He kept his eye fixed on the cave entrance, his mouth moving silently. He then went to the spring and filled up a large jug which he kept in his cloak. He held the jug's lip to the spring for two more minutes and then corked it and waved his hand over it before tying it to his hip. The timer continued now just the smallest bit left. Hex saw this and got into the boat. There were only three minutes left. Hex looked at Hope and Hope remembered that look a reasonable time afterward. It was of sadness, anger, fear, and confusion. Two minutes remained and then came a high-pitched whistle from the mouth of the cave.

It was here Hope saw her uncle gasp and look above him and begin to silently weep as she heard him in an agonized strained voice, "My God." The woman came and handled a large oar and began to make massive strokes out of the cave to the open sea. Hope alarmed said, "Wait for Daddy! There are still two minutes! There are still two minutes!"

Hex took her by the shoulders, and he focused on her terrified eyes. His voice was loud, "Sleep!" She felt drowsy and lightheaded and fell asleep in his arms. Hex cradled the girl as he listened to the still wild clamor of the bells. What Hope did not see was perhaps the greatest blessing. For as she slept, Hex turned back and saw the flag of the Great Council rise and its color red. At that moment, upon glimpsing the flag, Hex's heart was breaking. For up to now he had never known such awful pain and loneliness.

As the ferrywoman continued, the bells continued to peal and then finally there was sudden silence. Profound silence. The only sound of the oar in the water.

Hex breathed at a moderate pace, "Brothers, Spellbinder, no…the name our mother gave you, Caius. Caius, Erithan…" he said, "I'm sorry. I have failed you both. I felt that as you did, Caius, the Council would see reason. That for the sake of balance and unity and genuine happiness of our people we could convince them to see the way we did, and indeed our God did. This was folly, this we should have known.

Erithan, you were right. I loved your words, your speeches, your honesty. It was your convictions, and reliability that drew us to you. But we also knew but sadly only too late, what you knew already. "For it is the way of man." That is what you said. For a long time, I wanted to say I understood what you meant. But it was clear even though I was too proud to admit it; I didn't.

Brothers, I will do as I promised. Caius, your child will live within my care. I know it will not be easy when it comes to explaining all that has happened. But we have prepared we have come to understand this is what was to happen. Now what is to happen, we know not. I can only make the best of educated guesses. Erithan, your literature, and your passion will be what is used to guide her to help shape her world view. You were knowledgeable knowing men for who they are, knowing people for their fickle nature. Some call you paranoid; I called you sensible. I see the task ahead with not be easy, but we have done our best to prepare. Now, it begins a new way, a new life. You both knew what this was about and I applaud you for it. I love you and thank you for it…and in time…she will as well."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hoping you enjoy this new chapter! Please Read and Review.**

Chapter 2

It had been several years since coming to Earth from her native realm. Hope by this point was twelve years old. Hex had managed to get by with help from fellow magi and mystic resources procuring them with means of security in terms of employment and housing in a medium-sized city of Ketchler, Massachusetts. The home they had was not entirely too much. It was a small two-bedroom apartment with a kitchenette, bathroom, and small living room which lead into the kitchenette. The area of the apartment's situation was of modest income in general. A majority of those around the city and indeed those who shared the complex were by and large workers for the railroad, for a nearby steel-plant, or if one was lucky, employment in the more prestigious "entertainment quadrant" as it was termed. Hope

Hex himself worked within the entertainment quadrant using his skills as historian and researcher to secure himself a job as curator for the area's first museum. He resided chiefly in the realm of medieval art and culture with extensions going into Roman and Ancient Greek history. This avenue of employment served well to provide Hope and himself with the proper means of support in terms of food and rent. They were long hours sometimes going into the avenues of late evening up to closing time. As such, he was never home in the following aspects of the evening which by the time Hope was eight, it had become a generally accepted form of precedent.

As a result, Hope, as she gradually got older starting around age six, she didn't spend that much time at home. Of course, she maintained her studies and performed quite well in the aspect of the fields that were very important to her, namely history, music, and the fine arts. However, in terms of arithmetic and graduation to more advanced courses, it was not accurate to say that she did not understand the concepts. Nor did she not understand the higher purpose, applications and indeed need of these aspects. But it was genuinely dull to her and was mainly immaterial to her personally. Just as she may have personally felt this way, she was not without common sense.

Through living on Earth Hope had learned especially in their area of the United States, and indeed the nation, academic performance was much desired and indeed expected from an early age. However, from those she had come to know as "greater acquaintances," Hope came to realize there were methods by which she could thrive to achieve her autonomy. In premise, it was straightforward. She had made acquaintances with both greater and lesser advancements as needed to attain what she needed. These acquaintances were utilized in no other way to be said as impromptu tutors and cheat sheets. However, Hope for her intentions reciprocated the help she requested from these individuals. It was a balancing act of a form of quid-pro-quo. As she endeavored to help those who struggled in the realms where she excelled, she asked to help understand the fields she struggled in. But it was not to follow the discipline so much as it was to look at a teacher's test and from what they see, determine the pattern of what needed to be directly studied to pass. For in a queer aspect of early understanding, she had come to realize a distinct element in human exploitation consisting of a form of understanding. Hope knew to look for what people valued most and from an exhibition of understanding of the greater knowledge towards the lesser knowledge, in contrast, she could count on leniency for seemingly mastering the greater discipline.

Outside of academics, Hope did have a small circle of friends that she held still as acquaintances but not so much of a distance between them. There was Kristoff Kathman the son of a similarly magically gifted family originally from Ledgerdomain and who resettled in the United States after going to gather family connections in Otwock, Poland. His family served in a unique position as "keepers of the houses" ensuring that there was enough stored to protect the people in the event of famine or siege. Since the events which claimed the lives of Hope's father and his friend Erithan, known in time as "The Great Usurpation," many families such as hers, both of greater and lesser fortune were displaced and came to Earth as a place of refuge.

Just as there was Kathman, there was Walter Gilmore, whose family she had heard her father mention in various supper settings at home. The Gilmore clan were highly respected lawyers as a family business, and it was no different than the avenue of occupation in Ketchler. However, they did choose to tone down their original element of criminal law as to hide from what was a concern of many families, hunters from the Usurpation to extinguish the residue of those who managed to escape. As a result, the Gilmores had gone into more the realm of instant public defenders even though they knew such a field of lawyer was not altogether respected. However, what they desired was to be so useful as public defenders that they were used by the common man on referral from an equally common man to restore hope that not all associated with what could be considered by many to be a loathsome aspect of lawyer.

Then there was Robert Mikolovich Eca of the Eca household. The Eca family were known as the "contented workers of known greater purpose." What this meant was that the family was dispersed all through the nation of Ledgerdomain. They were the people that many overlooked because of perceived occupation. A tragedy that Hope herself knew she was guilty of on some level. For she came to realize the Eca family were the very teeth of the cogs that served to interconnect to the more significant gears of society. These were the family who took pride in doing the jobs none desired. They were the maids, the cleaning men, the sewer workers, the sanitation workers, the cleaners of carriages. They kept the nation clean, neat, and, efficient. They were seldom seen and even less heard. They knew their power lay in the services they provided. This same purpose they very happily continued with over on Earth but because of their merit and subsequent credentials had access to some of the most potent and advanced places in society, serving as both a small bragging right to them and a means of jealousy from others.

Finally, there was Sarah Entwhistle of the Entwhistle Family. A people that very much understood the value of reality versus idealism. The way many described them was sober-minded and some even going so far as to say close-minded. But this was not indeed the case. These were a family that had made their livelihood for several centuries on the understanding of accepting reality and all of the darkness that it entailed. It also meant that in their element of acknowledgment of the evil that it was a reality that they lived in, but not destined to tolerate, endure, or even allow to continue. For the mindset of the Entwhistles was best described in their creed which read, For in knowledge is light; in excuse and selfishness is darkness. To ensure Order and Light to triumph over darkness, one must make peace and understand from where that evil stems and when seen the root that sprouts the stem, dig it out and burn it up for why does it use up the ground?"

It was with these people Hope genuinely had come to identify with as they were joined as all friends are, by common themes. In this group of a daughter of a great general, a keeper of record, a defender of the ubiquitous man, a cleaner of the filth of the people and their city, and an aspiring cleanser of evil from people, this group was united in pain, loss, and grief. But also, all shared the dream and indeed hoped that one day they would be able to reclaim what was theirs initially using their gifts instilled in them by their families.

For this group of friends it was not uncommon to during the period of school months to alternate visitations to each other's houses and went around Ketchler in general usually to catch a movie at the refurbished cinema on the main square or to go to one of their favorite eating places, _Danglar's Deli_ _& Pharmacy._ A slice of the town hearkening back to an earlier time both in quality of food and service and yet, it served as a memento of darker times as well. The times of the old Jack Filliente and his terror through his small but mighty family upon the lives of many of the families of Ketchler through loansharking, extortion, and judicial tampering. Going back a little farther when _Danglar's _was known as _Braxton's Braid_ a known stop for prohibition runners who took a cut of the overall take to keep silence. That greed for the cut went to deep and lead to the Braxton massacre. It was found afterward the place was also a brothel by which many women and young girls no more than in some cases fourteen were beaten, used up, and cast aside constantly and indiscriminately. In acknowledgment of the evil of the past from overt violence to shady deals, to a lovely luncheon spot for those of the later times-this tapestry of societal darkness intermingled with light, akin to themselves and their history, was a perfect location for this group of visionary revolutionaries to call a meeting place.

Their discussions as they would meet would be of the usual inclinations. Namely that of critiques of teacher, either permanent of a substitute. The debate they would have over the medium of entertainment, and their relevance or lack thereof, or in some cases as a teenager is want to do, character assassination or indeed an appraisal, albeit a shallow one, of other classmates they didn't particularly care for. Hope was not always privy to such conversation as she didn't truly see the need for bashing those unable to defend themselves. Rather her appraisal of character did, in fact, stem from the first-hand impression as to give a suitable and above all accurate appraisal of the qualities she wished to either lament or very rarely praise in what she saw in another.

In time as was the custom after a while, the conversation generally gravitated towards reflections of life back home in Ledgerdomain. Most of the group had relatively fond memories before being forced to leave. That said, all of them, regardless of wanting to admit it or not, had grown accustomed to life in the small town of Ketchler. Almost everything was primarily concentrated and comfortably so. What this concentrated comfort translates to was that everything vital to enjoyment at their age was readily available. The main aspects of entertainment namely the small cinema, the bowling alley, roller rink, general store, bar and grill, and pool hall was a fifteen to twenty-minute walk from either one of their homes. The business sector of the city was very much known to be a ten-minute bus ride with the bus's final stop in the very heart of the industrial district. It was a lovely blend of equally private and public in terms of separation of home-life and work. Generally, not many brought work home with them unless indeed in the fields as some were of accounting, medicine, teaching, or in some rare instances, worked from home.

The schools of Ketchler was a different matter, _St. Teresa's _was one of them. It was a large and stately Catholic affair. The genuinely wealthy of the town both attended the school and so did their children that in the eyes of Hope went back to Columbus's time likely enough. The attendees were known for their splendid appearance, the epitome of uniform in both dress and function.

As was observed by Walter, "The poor puppets that believe so many misconceptions." When questioned on this by Robert, Walter explained, "It's an interesting way that the Catholic faith sees aspects. See they do believe as a shocking paradigm against the core of the Christian element. They believe both in good works will save you and if that doesn't work money will save you from damnation. That's just one of the major elements that served as weakness of their argument. I mean I had to look at it myself from the aspect of a Protestant who came from them, and the thing is when you, in fact, come from their mentality and are shown a new way to look at it, well it is very jarring the extent of what can only be realized and seen as superstition."

"But are we not the magi, the very people that by their practices that they would indeed burn us as witches and warlocks, which we admittedly are?" Hope asked.

Walter shook his head, "No, you are, we are not."

Hope looked confused, "Can you explain that?"

Walter took out a cigarette from his jacket. He lit it and took a slow drag in contemplation as if assessing the right words, "Well, think of it like this. Your family and bloodline are magi by choice. A common misconception is that to be of the magi people you all practice magic. Not so, you choose to practice magic, which Hope, is not magic. Well at least in the regards as these humans understand it. The rest, however, was from families derived from fundamental and yet vital trades necessary to our homeland. We all were being groomed to take our parents' places and carry on the legacy of their practices. You were the only one afforded more choice. Bear in mind we do not hold this against you. That would be entirely unethical to hate you because you were born with a few advantages."

"So, wait a minute, are you, in fact, saying, that you don't hold what you would see as a greater affordance of choice compared to you all, you wouldn't hold it against me?"

Walter took another drag, "Think of it like this. We don't because frankly, we realized of people of your upbringing and indeed caliber, that while you were afforded more choices, you also, in fact, had more responsibility than we did. We thought of it like a nice balancing of the hands we all are dealt in life."

Robert nodded, "Yeah, I mean because think about it, Wally is not wrong. We were in fact from the time we could walk, trained and taught in the ways of our professions to be inherited. We came to realize some hard truths very early on. Hard truths, mixed with a bit of tragedy, mixed further with what can only be described as a realization of what the world and society that we left, in fact, was: A system that was deeply antiquated, dangerously sick in the aspect of social class, and run with impunity because of the element of the beliefs of the higher-ups. The belief was saying, 'That so long as the necessary functions of the country were in constant use and growth, the people did not care about the greater goings-on. They only cared they had food in their bellies and employment by which to get money to buy more food and some luxuries.' As much as some and indeed, you, may not like it, Hope, your family up until your father, had embraced this full-heartedly which is what lead to the Uprising. Because of a mass differentiation of opinion that had otherwise been held by that family for arguably centuries."

Kristoff then spoke, "Yes, yes. Exactly. See the only reason that you had to come here at all was the element that after a while, your father became disillusioned by what he had seen for a reasonable amount of time before you were even born. I know this because my dad worked with him for a time, and from such time together, both came to understand one another and what each other saw in the spheres of influence each had respectively. See, for a long time, your family was detached from the suffering of many of the people that, as far as everyone up to your father was concerned, we're not there to be catered to or cared for. We were there to serve, and to serve them in their armed divisions which protected the country.

Your father broke that mold because of he, for the first time out of many generations, said, "Fuck it." And so he became a friend of the people, he sympathized with many of us and from how our parents tell us," gesturing to all three of the others, "He did, in fact, make viable efforts towards change but in the way he knew the Grand Council would only be willing to ingest it, in tea-spoonfuls."

Sarah tapped Hope on the shoulder, "In synopsis, you are only here and able to be with us, because your father loved all of us, all our families. It was he who helped provide passage for all of us here. He cared for us because in relation with us but more importantly The Great Master as our culture calls God, well he was made to see that all the evil and all the corruption and all the tyranny that his family had used against others in the armies was in fact over with. He was the voice of the people, not initially but became one through doing what no other had done before.

Talking with us and speaking with us. Your father endeavored to understand us, to attempt to empathize and sympathize. From all this, he tried and, in some cases, did help to liberate us from the other implacable iron-fist that was the Great Council. But for all this, the Council became angry, and they listened to a new voice on a recommendation to them. This unique voice was filled with their wine. Their wine of old venom and intense anger towards dissent. Vintage and potency derived from long-standing superiority and corked by a passionate aspiration to replace your father for the sake of his own power. His name was Adwatia Karatiza."

Hope nodded, and for the rest of the day, she contemplated all that had been said. She reflected long and hard, and as much as she wanted to rationalize, or more accurately over-rationalize the whys and wherefores, the truth was, in fact, evident but still something she did not want to admit. The reality was that the people Hope thought as a young girl she could call friends were iron-handed and narrow-minded tyrants over the people of Ledgerdomain. Hope waited this night until seven thirty when she knew Hex would be home and as he prepared supper and she set the table; Hope began to formulate the question she knew he'd be able to answer to give further clarity for her.

The dinner was more excellent than the standard fare. It was an excellent fresh salmon steak with lobster and hand made crab Rangoon. It was in acknowledgment of just this upgrade in food from the traditional microwave food or fry meal that got Hope genuinely thinking. She knew something had changed and so it was here she debated even asking the questions on her mind.

However, she decided to ask an alternative question, "Uncle, what's the occasion for all this?"

Hex smiled somewhat, "It is a bit of a celebration. We have had the pleasure of welcoming in a Michelangelo exhibit in Boston, and the museum wants to send me to look into it to see what pieces can be assessed for an extended loan from the exhibit to give a splash of new culture to Ketchler."

Hope nodded and said, "Well, congratulations." She had some of the Rangoon and then said, "Well I was going to ask you something, I was talking to some friends of mine in terms of what exactly the whole Usurpation was about, and they told me some exciting things. Uh, to get to the meat of it, what happened all those years ago?"

Hex's smile disappeared, and Hope could see it was still something of a sore subject. But Hex understood that in time she would have found this out, be it from him or her friends whose parents were close to his brother. He was now thinking as best to address what he knew was now staring him in the face. He knew potentially if he told Hope precisely what happened she would have absolute truth as best he could deliver it. However, what he knew would kick-start her anger was a realization of what exactly happened. In a way, he knew he'd have to cross the bridge eventually and so utilizing the silence, he began to formulate a plan.

He then cleared his throat, as he was done thinking, and began, "The events of all that transpired is something that I'm sure your friends have told you an extension of their parents, was what can only be said as a "changing of the guard" followed by "a preservation of order." What I mean by this your father, our friend, Erithan, and I were the change in the guard. We had seen the corruption of our families in ages past, we had seen their influence attained first through what was perceived noble conduct but in time over generations degenerated into the prideful command and oppression of others. We endeavored to put a stop to this barbaric treatment as we all saw at very young ages.

See, what you must understand first and foremost is that your father and our friend turned brother, Erithan were outstanding people. Not perfect, none ever are. But they were outstanding men, and I never want you to forget that. Secondly, our systems, both political and by extension, familial by which we lived and were comfortable and for what you experienced if but for a moment were extremely corrupt. The wealth and prominence were built on a foundation of what was once a great legacy in battle and strategy. The foundation was built, but the overall body of our heritage in time was tarnished and made ugly as newer generations up to us embraced the chaotic system of the world. What was once great heritage was now nothing more than rising in power by means of the oppressors of the world, we lived in. Namely, what tarnished us was engagement in slavery, murder, oppression, tyranny, suppression of dissent, intimidation, and fear.

Your father and I saw this in time as our parents; your grandparents were always in Grand Council meetings. As we were not allowed to attend such meetings, your father and I poured over our family history, which had two renditions. One rendition, as we both knew was for public consumption. It justified many heinous actions under the pretense of protection and security of the state and the people therein. It spoke of great heroes and painted them in the epitome of romantic light. It was a true false narrative filled with such colorful prose and poetry it was just sickening especially when compared to the journals, diaries, and letters of the actual people depicted the accounts as well of those in their circle who gave more objective takes. For what in all reality, what may have been portrayed as a dashing knight or just and noble king was a butcher of men, rapist of women, and instead of just and generous was an opportunist and snake. What was depicted to the masses? A lie, a sordid lie to soothe their souls with dreams and aspirations of grand and noble conduct and etiquette when in all reality, our family's heroes were indeed that of monsters. Monsters contented to be monsters as they were filled with good food, wine, and given the power, which was the real end goal for all most of our family."

Hope was very silent as she just listened to her uncle. She could tell by how he spoke; it was an element of extreme hatred for their own family. Knowing such feelings were not unwarranted in the revelation of not only what he had said but further supported by a narrative her friends gave testament to. In realization of this, she thought long and hard and prepared to ask what was on her heart, but she equally dreaded to ask.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Uncle, you have given me an aspect that leads me to ask, was daddy killed for thinking in this new way? To end the old ways of our family and turn a new leaf?"

Hex looked at her very solemn and said, "Yes. As I have said, there was a yearning for a keeping of order. We all went against the precedent which had been set for centuries on end. As a response, the Grand Council did, in fact, act against us. It started small at first with the introduction of some newer council members, and in time, there came the introduction of Adwatia Karatiza to the council."

Hope nodded, "Yeah, one of my friends, Sarah, told me about him. Who was he exactly? I remember for a little while that daddy and Mr. Erithan would have some heated discussions about the Council's shifting standards, was this Adwaita one of them?"

Hex replied, "Not even so much of a shifting standard. Adwaita was more accurately a representative from an older house in Legerdemain. However, most assuredly he was, in fact, the Council's attempt to show to others who remained skeptical of Spellbinder's and Erithan's mindsets how against the traditional precedent that the two were and subsequently how Adwatia could replace one of them.

The reason they didn't bring two people to replace them was that the Council did understand that the public did somewhat watch them. But it was in such way that the public only dealt with 'superficial fairness.' Meaning that the Council knew that if they kept a distinct and directly opposing voice, it would be seen that they desired to be presented as truly fair having the odd number of voting potential. They actively were just the opposite, one uniform mindset for the better of themselves and their friends. The inclusion of the dissenting voice was just a formality and a symbolic element, and not so much a literal application to overall decision-making."

Hope nodded in understanding, taking in her uncle's words and Hex could genuinely see the effect his words were having upon his niece. He knew what was soon to be planted in her mind, and at the same time, he knew that he couldn't have that seed planted too early. As the element to attain what he knew, she in time would want, required time to build up to let alone resources of which they had none. So in knowledge in of her reception of this information, Hex chose the next avenue of approach that was greatly more desirable for the present.

"In synopsis, the Council took their time, lined up their resources to expel either your father or Erithan and in their perfect world, they'd gladly take both out. However, such was the pacing over the years of this buildup that they couldn't afford precisely to eliminate both at least not in the same location on the same day. Their ruse, however, was obvious and was made even more apparent to the public as Erithan had connections to various printers and journalists in the central city. He utilized the public's need for scandal and intellectual vanity to put the Council's machinations on full display to see, worded so plainly the common man could easily understand.

As the dirty laundry was aired and the people saw and understood what was presented, a mixture of anger towards the Council and a fear of the Council's reprisals arose gradually. This fear resulted in many prominent families of legitimate influence tied to your father and Erithan to being to make plans to come here to escape what they knew was coming. In the history of Ledgerdomain and indeed the history of the world, when a tyrant or tyrants' collective power is threatened, or their evil laid naked to see, what does the tyrant do? He or she will suppress all dissent, violently if need be. However, such were the circumstances regarding this airing of their laundry, that they knew they had to act quickly.

Both your father and Erithan knew this which is why before the pamphlets detailing the elements of the Council's history, members, affiliations, etc. were even distributed; they had spread word to the major players who they had helped and helped them. This silent alarm resulted in a collective silent readying to move and using the window Erithan provided, major families came over here to where it was safe and indeed safeguarded. It was slow, and it was gradual following the time window Erithan put in motion to ensure the significant players could safely get away before we had a certain cataclysmic domino effect when the pamphlets were made public. Most of all major players and supporters of both made it across to this town and indeed several others in separate counties across the world."

Hope then asked, "So what happened leading up to our final day?"

Hex looked at her a moment, again, choosing his words carefully but struggling as the pain began to wash over him again like a wave, "The pamphlets concerning the Council's corruption had by that point been in full circulation for the better part of roughly two months. The Council, knowing they had been outed, investigated in the meantime during distribution. However, Erithan, who I believe was the shrewdest of us all, said to his many journalists and printer contacts that once the pamphlets had been made, that the presses were to be destroyed. Preparations had been made beforehand to provide for their families and themselves to ensure livelihood. And so, from the presses of significant printers and publishers were the pamphlets printed. But the printers and all affiliates were already gone when the Council determined who printed the booklets.

Knowing full well, that their crimes and elements were out there, the Council did as they only knew how to do and did for centuries. They imposed martial law, which started on the day of our departure. After they had conducted an internal investigation into how they were exposed, many pointed the finger at Erithan in the knowledge of his connections to the press at large. Erithan, by all accounts, never denied the charges. Instead, he confronted his accusers and admitted to what he had done to show them for as it was written in the record, 'You are the worst kind of snakes. Worse than the tyrant who is mad, or the lecherous priest. You are the snakes who listen into the sacred communication between The Master and his children to find a means of finding secrets most intimate to find out more of a person, that knowledge, not yours to ever have! You contented yourselves in pride, in power, the seats you hold. You are the slave-drivers, the two-faced liars, the hypocrites, the users and killers of men and women. The makers and lovers of war, the mental enslavers through illusion. So yes. I did as I did; I have no shame in what I have done. For now, you are laid naked before the world, and now will face them.'

Hex's eyes began to water, and Hope could see this, and she asked, "I remember when a man came to you that day. He said they had stabbed Erithan to death."

Hex's even though watery were sharpened in anger, "They stabbed him thirty times, dragged him still barely alive into the public square, cut out his tongue, setting it upon a block. They took the block to one of the many botanical and fruit gardens that were his family's legacy to the city and upon the central tree, from which the gardens were coordinated and they hanged him. Then…then by all reports they came after your father and using his opposition from his soldiers, they killed him. The rest is history. The Council asserted its authority and slaughtered the rest of the dissenters with Adwatia in your father's old position as Guardian of the Realm. That point onward the Council rules all in the joyful glee of absolute power without pretenses and are contented therein. The houses and places of influence used by 'the vilest dissenters' were razed to the ground, and in the eyes of those who still live in Ledgerdomain the events are but a whisper."

Hope had had enough; she arose and went to her room. Considering all she had heard, she was now furious and very much shocked. Never had the truth been so bluntly laid out before. She surrendered of the inklings she'd had from her younger nights eavesdropping on her father's late-night talks with Erithan was the more excellent picture. Now, what was she to do? What could she do? She rolled the question over multiple times in her mind. She thought to herself that if the people indeed were refugees in this sense, then it was their duty to go back and take back what was once theirs. But even then, she knew it would be a tough case to argue. For the simple fact, she knew that Earth was different from Legerdemain. The atmosphere she remembered was far more significant in power and mana charge than here.

The question burned in her head over and over on the hows of going about her goal. So tired and flustered was she by this and all that her uncle had revealed that finally at the point of true mental exhaustion, she fell asleep.

Hex sat in the living room, his eyes in anger, but what needed to be done was done. The seed was planted, and it was planted in truth not out of romanticism or out of pity. He knew what was to come. He knew exactly what was to come. The power they would face, especially against the powerful alpha-rune in addition to the tyrannical and sadistic minds that used it, he knew he would have to find the Earthly equivalent. He knew they were there to help achieve his purpose; he had only to seek them out. He went to his study and opened an old tome and turned to the center, _The Charms of Bezel_. The time had come for him to act on the research he had attained through his years as curator — the first charm of the needed set was in his range, soon to be his.

**AN: This chapter took a good while to hammer out some themes and I am so pleased with how it turned out. The Master is an allusion to the fictional works of Christopher Diaz, JR in his **_**Across the Door **_**series. I asked his permission and he consented to allow me to use the term. This chapter while challenging helps to set up Charmcaster in early teen years and the following chapters will flesh that out. It is from this I aim to give normalcy to the character so when we see her as we do in the original Ben 10 Animation and subsequently in Alien Force and Ultimate Alien, we see the reasoning of the character and even causes of some effects and events which are largely not talked about. Read and Review, please. Thank you and I hope you had a great read. **


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Please read and review. Thank you.

Chapter 3

Hope awoke after the night of revelation. The answers she somewhat dreaded but now came to understand the full context of it. The framework, even at an early age, was understood to be essential. She woke, showered, prepared herself for to head to school to endure the school-day. In all reality, it only mattered to her to meet her friends, of which she shared many qualities, even though not precisely believing in the concept, she understood the law of attraction.

As she headed out the door, she saw Hex in his study pouring over various books and writing notes. She was going to speak but realizes in this element, much akin to her mother when painting, both when in the zone of creativity and focus hated above all else to be disturbed. Acknowledging this, she headed out for her usual walk to school. She didn't care for the dramatics and insufferable volume of the bus. The noise intermingled with the pungent odor of unwashed or sweaty boys, over-perfumed girls, the very tribalism of the cliques and the invisible societal elements of the bus alone, was reason enough to convince her to hardly ever ride. Only in the most extreme circumstances of extreme rain or cold would she abide with the qualities she despised, and even then, stayed mainly to herself.

Today was a beautiful day. The town had in terms of weather several rainy days, and now it was sunshine, and as the water dried around her, she noticed the very element that the runoffs of storm-drains and ditches gushed from the immense rainfall. She saw that there was much rain still making its way through the city. But at the same time, she was grateful for the break. The sunshine she knew, however, would not last. As living for the past several years in the city had proven, this is the regular pattern. The sun may shine; it may be somewhat temperate; however, often, the rain would still come in spurts as the sun shined. The old expression of the aged people there being The Devil beating his wife behind the door was always most queer to her. However, she knew this pattern of sun-kissed warm rain would persist on and off before the skies returned to overcast and then ushered in more rain. A temporary break was better than no break in her mind, yet she knew the storm was still to come, she had been conditioned for it, and brought her umbrella as a result.

The walk was the norm, mostly quiet, a gentle birdsong here and there, perfect to gather her thoughts and contemplate. But for the first time, she had nothing to think about that truly was actively pressing. Rather than question it, she proceeded to walk in mental silence.

She walked upon her portion of the city's cracked and pot-hole-riddled streets. She knew the city would take its sweet time in filling such things, especially in what was deemed by many to be a "lesser quadrant" It was just as they were with mostly anything. As the city served what Hope called a "rustic pick-me-up." She maintained this stance as a significant stop point for those on break from the colleges of the more notable cities of Boston and the like. But not students exactly but more the faculty from the deans to the professors, tenured or not. The town had to keep up appearances, but apart from that, it was mostly left to itself. It was evident that despite its thriving nature, the issues seen as issues were indeed in the eyes of the beholder. This indifference further translated to who deemed it worthy of importance. Was it worth the time and money to an already tight-fisted and even dare she think it, anal-retentively frugal budget in the hands of an equally tight mayor and city council? Likely not. As what mattered most to the city was that of presentation to the outside world. Appearances were most stressed both of the town and of its people. However, even this stance was subjective. In short, the city cut every corner it could to save a red cent. Its obligations were truly federal on the one hand and capitalizing on the professors coming to a rustic rural area on the other. Because some grew up in the small city and some, as a result, did give back to it, but a majority did not. And it could very well be seen in areas and not in others.

And from those obligations, the real face of the city despite how it seemed so quaint in its rustic charm, was filled with slick practices. As oily as the greasy triple-patty-fresh-fried hamburgers so loved by her peers that were so saturated by the substance that forget eating through the bag, the grease inevitably would seal shut vital arteries given too much indulgence even on the casual basis. As the oil of the burger affected the heart of the consumer, so also did the practices effect the lifestyles of those of the city.

But this was what she had known for some time. The city was more than comfortable in their practices as greasy as they were. The obligations were met by and large but no more than the necessities. And even then, the responsibility had favoritism written all over it. For example, Hope knew that people as her uncle and those in what she perceived as employment but truthfully was the income bracket received some favorable degree of expediency of reception of services from the city. Hex knew this early on, and even though he may have initially used it, he didn't continue to do so. Hex began by cutting off such affinities around the third year of living in the area. She saw he indulged in and, in fact, was a proud utilizer of the private businesses separate from the city. Hex knew they appreciated the business, and he also knew he would get what he paid for from them. It was as the understanding of old that businesses such as they lived and died by reputation and sub-par ability to deliver on the promise of service from the requested payment levels implied a real degree of poverty at best and laxness devolving into laziness at worst.

Hope remembered his motto more or less: "The established man of familial business no matter who they are, knows and understands the need for evolution in practice far more quickly than a corporation. As the intimacy from a family business is, in fact, what keeps them on top. The larger expansion, the more distant from the people they serve, the more distant, the more alienated from they are from need and personal touch they are that established them."

In Hope's interpretation, this very statement meant that those who come from humble origins could grow to be a monster. What she, currently, didn't consider was the power money had over mankind. The power that was evident, in her face even, but she didn't realize it. She realized a general scope, but the more intimate range implied a more intimate and personal view of the value of something that if she at this time were exposed to it, would devastate her. Hex realized this which in his way, he tried to gently present to Hope as to what she _should _use as a means of service and help as opposed to what the beneficiaries of a broken system would use. The very reasoning behind this was to be revealed to Hope far sooner than she would anticipate.

For now, though, she went about her business as any student would. She approached the black-iron windowed door and entered. _Into the nest of vipers._ She thought as she heard the buzzer and solid click of the lock behind her, sealing her fate for the day. Hope sighed, not so much of defeat but acceptance of this for what it was. She headed towards the main seat where she usually sat, the second chair from far right on the right side, foremost table of the five on the left side. She waited here patiently staring at the large double-doors hiding the kitchen

Hope knew all the staff who operated the kitchen. Many of them good matron figures, mothers, passionate to serve people as herself truly home-cooked meals, and it was always evident. As not only was the taste a huge factor, but so was just what could only be explained as love in the cooking. Love and caring and tenderness. Such elements that sadly were void in many lives, including her own. She knew even then, that there were people who cared, people who loved. These people were normal, these people were without the power of the official form, at least as she understood power. But still more than power, they had the love of the students, they had the appreciation of them more than the teacher in some cases. They knew this, those hard-working women. But they did not abuse it. They knew what the children desperately wanted, but more than that, knew what they needed. It was out of this realization of their need those matrons did as they did. Later in her life, she would reflect on those matrons, and wonder where she had fallen off.

The doors opened, and the first face she was Teresa. The middle-aged matron that she would come to know as The Smiler. She always had a good nature, a pleasant disposition. She was kind and gentle, still making even Hope herself crack a smile. She was straightforward and honest. Ever loving, though, in her delivery. Never condescending, never precisely just so, just who she was. She gave the answers to Hope's questions as best she knew how, and when Teresa didn't know she admitted she didn't know. Admission of such as Hope would learn of not knowing by people, in general, was very seldom, if ever done. This very aspect of Teresa was something that endeared her to Hope though she didn't directly know it.

For in the mind of this particular teenager, Hope saw her conversations with Teresa only as a conversation at the time. But in her heart, caring for her views and caring for answers to her questions Teresa provided. But why? Again, in the selfish nature that she did wish she could better hide, but more accurately, Hope felt none saw, she was fulfilling her vanity. It satisfied her pride in that she wanted confirmation she was right or on the right track at least. But it was not for the love of knowledge Hope did this, but Hope loved the stroking of ego it gave her. It was because, at this time in her life, which endured for some time afterward, she felt that to know you were in the right was a higher power over anyone as it was a more prominent means to be happier with yourself. She was, as many teenagers were and are, seeking the validation of their views. A dissenting opinion was not so popular, but a mind like Hope's was a great challenge. Great in a sense, it was fully welcomed as she did love to argue and did love to shout down her opponent. All of it boiled down to the same premise; however, it was a thirst, a real desire to be right. For none are more tyrannical when they are correct, haughty in power, nor are they more seemingly insufferable. Pride is what fuels these people, indeed what fueled her.

Despite this, despite appearances, Hope fooled no one. Teresa saw this, she knew it, she acknowledged it. But not out condemnation or longing to correct in the long run did she humor Hope. Instead, Teresa functioned in a knowing capacity that Hope herself was young and Teresa knew, Hope wanted to validate herself to the world. Teresa knew the pain within Hope hidden as she wished to be. But that pain was there for Teresa to see. Therefore, she did not hate Hope, nor did she outright correct her. She knew then that Hope had a long road ahead of her. She knew that Hope desired to be right out of the fact that Hope wanted answers, only because she knew Hope wanted to know if there was a reason for things. She wanted to more accurately, Teresa knew, believe there was a reason for things. Teresa knew this. But she equally knew that this teenager she came in time to love as her own, would need more help than she could provide. That said, she sated Hope's questions with answers because she knew Hope would not leave her alone until answered, but also that Hope would in time be made to understand and realize that for all she thought she knew, she knew nothing. Teresa knew Hope was like every other teen out there. It's not that Hope knew nothing, but she only understood the tiniest portion from her perspective that came from books, from a third-hand source at best, and generalization of something based on an assumption at the very worst. Teresa knew, the trap of the intellectual, but worse, she knew Hope for what she was, The Prideful Intellectual. But what Teresa also knew but equally what Hope just would not accept was this: The Prideful Intellect is smashed to the earth faster than any other. When it finally arrests them that they knew in reality even less than they thought did, that it was just an assumption and pride that blocked them from true wisdom, that they are devastated.

Teresa felt this was going to come because Hope she knew would not listen to correction. What she wanted was validation. Teresa gave the answers Hope sought. But she did not tickle  
Hope's ear, she answered by how she saw the world from the lens of her faith. The Faith the Hope did not want to accept at the time exactly. The Master was for her at that time, as with most people of her background, and of her age, someone she didn't want to hear all the time because it was stale and boring to her. She said that to herself stale and boring, but it was more than that, and it was Teresa saw, it's not that it's outdated or boring. It was that it told Hope what to do, and what not to do. Teenagers hate that very principle and still growing into adults mostly always do. Because it wasn't that Teresa was blind, but she knew human nature. Teenagers such as Hope honestly did want their own identity, and they wanted outside of what she knew they called "religious mumbo-jumbo."

Teresa wasn't worried, though. The seed for growth was planted. But at the same time, it was up to Hope to utilize it. But she also understood Hope was made aware of just what Teresa thought and how she and several of the other matrons came to know as truth. It was up to Hope to accept it or not. The road would wind, twist, contort, and ultimately come to a form of understanding. But just how, Teresa didn't know, but she had faith for Hope. But she also surrendered as much as she loved the young woman, she had to let Hope go. To let her figure out her stances for herself and reach her conclusions.

Even so, today she indulged Hope's questions about the aspects of life namely the general themes which Hope dwelled on, the relevance of justice, the effectiveness of truth, the effectiveness of courts and if they genuinely were worthy of continued sustenance. Teresa knew the answers far more in-depth than she revealed to the youth. Again, what she knew was continually affirmed. Hope wanted to understand another's opinions and Teresa had a solid idea why but also knew it was, in fact, something else. Just what that something else was itself a mystery. But this was the norm for the two in the aspect of what could be considered the everyday routine. These question and answer sessions or more accurately, Teresa felt "poking and dissecting the mind" was just something to pass the time in many respects for the matron. For she knew that experience would be a far more excellent teacher than she could ever be.

It was now half-past seven. A full half-hour until the usual routine of teachers and half-paying attention started. And it was at this moment Hope took her leave of Teresa as was custom for her to meet with her friends in the gymnasium. As was expected, Walter and Robert were waiting on the bleachers, the first and second rows customarily pulled out in the early morning and in the mid-afternoon for seating in these periods where the early-arrivers and lunch crowds of the respective time slots as to have a better venue of accommodation. It was often desirable as today, Wednesday, was the day of the custom-morning floor buff and wax. Oh, how Hope hated it, not only for herself but half the time in the morning on Wednesday, the wax had dried, but for some reason when she rested her legs on the floor, it burned intensely which Walter attributed to the wax not being fully set into the wood. Which Hope herself attributed to him pulling some half-baked explanation out of his ass if she were to be truly honest.

As she sat with the two, she listened to Walter and Robert talk about their literature assignment due in two periods. The assignment was to pick between Poe and Lovecraft and explain why they preferred one over the other. Walter's choice was that of Lovecraft.

"You gotta' understand, Robbie, Lovecraft is the true epitome of early dedication and depth what I mean by this look at what the guy did. I mean sure he is wordy and at times his symbolism doesn't make complete sense. But think about it, what is this dude doing? He is laying the very foundations for continued self-sustaining lore that only gets deeper and deeper with every reading, and yet his works build on prior works, the man was making an expanded universe before the very concept came about and was accepted into a favored medium. He is the pioneer of expanded universe in terms of literature. That's why I believe as I do in seeing him as better."

Robert chewed a wad of spearmint to mask the tobacco smell about his person, albeit quite unsuccessfully. He smelled like he had flavored nicotine gum that protruded from his cheek like a half-gorged squirrel. It was his habit, to chew over his words, literally. Also, Hope knew it was a convenient mechanism in the regards of stalling. However, Robert, as she knew, took his time. Every word was carefully placed, and with him, she knew there were no accidents only mistakes. What differentiated the two? In the mindset of all present and accident instituted a common defense for most people as a form of excusing their behavior usually through an allusion to coincidence being heavily present. But all three knew that there were no such accidents, especially with the likes of Robert. He chewed in turns either quickly or slowly as Hope could see the framework building. He then stopped and spat out the wad into a napkin he always kept in reserve for his spent tool. He then tossed with an elegant grace the wad into the nearby trash bin.

He sucked in air through his mouth because he loved the sweet savor of the cold air accented with the spearmint laced saliva. It was a deep relish for it was both a confidence of being fresh not only in breath and appearance but also frame of mind. Medicinal smelled as he was, both Walter and Hope knew they were in for a long-worded, long-winded, explanation. Hope crossed her legs, Indian style and she settled it. It was a lot like story-time when they were in earlier grades, much akin to the teacher preparing to read a chapter, she knew Robert was getting ready.

He cleared his throat and began, "Walter, I agree regarding your belief that Lovecraft is very well-structured. However, in reality, if you want a demonstration of true mastery, you need only look at Poe. He is very skilled at suspense. Pioneering admitted exact pacing within poetry just for that explicit purpose. Think about it. All through his collection of works, what do we remember? The pacing, the fear of the tension building and culminating in violence if not of physical then of mental elements. But what makes Poe truly the master is the sheer diversity of his crafts. He was remarkably varied in theme, remarkably diverse in styles-but most of all; he was a master of the ability to do genuinely different story subjects which ranged in implication and the actual reality of the events of the presentation.

Think about his most distinguished narrative poems, what are they? _The Black Cat, The Cask of Amontillado, The Tell-Tale Heart, The Masque of the Red Death. _All of them have similar themes, but the overall approach and verbalization show in each aspect the mind of the perpetrator and the perpetrated. It is most interesting in just those. His poetry, again, just as varied as his narrative poems. But the themes are much lighter by comparison, and so Poe demonstrates he is the true master. In his styles in his mastery of techniques of the traditional aspect of poetry and dare I say what he fired the first salvo into pure suspense poetry."

Hope listened to this argument, as it made very valid and crucial points. They were direct, they were succinct and as was Robert's style endowed with albeit flowery but poignant aspects of critique of what he saw. However, of the two great debaters of literary merit, she knew Mike was the only one who indeed did his homework while Walter winged it often on such assignments. It wasn't that Walter was lazy, but as for Hope herself, he had what could only be admitted to as a most bizarre luck factor. No one, not even she could honestly figure it out just how it worked. All Hope knew was that Walter could sleep through most anything also go so far as to be absent from classes entirely and still, provided he got a rundown from someone in the class, he could formulate a paper much as he could readily develop a bullshit excuse for her legs burning on a wooden floor. And yet, despite this, he made excellent grades overall.

Class started as was signaled by the mid-pitched tone. She saw the band members depart for what she perceived as hell. She didn't much care for the teacher at all and for what some others seemed as reasonable. He was inflexible, a hard ass at best, a tyrant at worst. Edwards was his name. An overweight imbittered bastard she honestly is what she saw him as. Not caring why mainly he was an asshole, and most didn't care. He was a totalitarian ruler with a secret passion for the power that drove him. He loved that band, and for some reason, she knew they loved him. But at the same time, she wasn't fooled by their appearances. She knew why his toadies gushed with love for the dick. He was a very efficient, instrumental teacher, and to the district, it made him indispensable. He was an ass because well, in reality, he was much like the teens themselves; Edwards desired to prove himself to the world, he endeavored to as Hope knew, be in exact command. He knew the Band was made exemplary through him, but only because he broke them. It was much like the army. He was instilling in the teens' discipline, but Hope knew he got his rocks off in his position of power. She remembered how she very much hated his class, _Introduction to Music Theory. _ It hit home during that class that frankly this guy had no issue hurting kids because she understood the danger of tenure. The man truly couldn't be touched unless it was for a massive grievous offense. But Hope knew the man loved to threaten people as she was threatened, "How about I stick a steel-toe boot up your ass?"

Though Hope knew she wanted to do something against the jackass, she couldn't as she didn't quite know how. So, traditionally, as with most teachers she disdained and people in general of her class who were for her, far more comfortable to disdain, she resorted to what she and every teen knew best. Angsty poetry, moody compositions of thought, and in all reality a safer venting that what she truly desired which if she knew she'd suffer no consequences, she'd gladly kill each and every one, slowly and methodically to illustrate the hatred she had towards them and why. But suffice to say at this point, as she had not quite the affordance or knowledge to inflict wanton destruction, she had to be contented with her poetry.

This day was unlike most others for the aspect that where most schools would call an inservice of some form and not have school the necessary functions of the school continued with the help of substitute teachers of each teacher who appeared at a designated portion of the day. It seemed to Hope that it was structured very much as a form of rotation. The school year had been a very hard one in terms of this particular winter. Over three weeks had been missed due to the snow. If wasn't the snow the school was canceled for the aspect of a glaze of ice on the roads. For which was understandable in the principal deciding not to take any unnecessary risks. Hope understood this very well, but she was very much frustrated with the senior-classmen as they were granted immunity from the aspects of this forced suffering upon others, which to many of her classmen till didn't exactly make sense.

The day was good however, classes were steady the studies of chemistry on this particular day were of great interest to Hope as it went into the concept of what she could see as "expanding upon the scientific method but also taking into account true risk" as even if one had experimentation the potential for a genuine problem was amplified. She loved this as it helped give her both an adrenaline aspect to this in her eagerness to see the effects of select chemical combinations. She wrote all of these combinations down as well as the materials to achieve her more personally desired results. The knowledge, though elementary, it served in Hope's perception as the building blocks for a deeper understanding of what would come later, the acquisition of desired components.

History was her next. It was a favorite class as she loved her relationship with her teacher, Mr. Slaughter. He was one of the kindest people she knew at that point in her life, and their friendship happened out of the sheer coincidence that they shared a love of a detective show. She loved his lessons also as Slaughter was ahead of the curve in understanding even though it took Hope a while to connect the dots. Slaughter realized that teenagers where who they are. The method by which he primarily lectured was not to lecture at all but rather give a preface as to what was going to be taught and typically fire up an hour-long series of videos and all the while, this method combined with raw bookwork did show a very viable lesson that of self-reliance. It was odd at first because the principle was a bit strange as it had deviated from Slaughter's usual formula, but after she had bombed the first test, Hope figured out just what was being done. Thankfully she figured it out quickly, and it was very self-evident the results of this kind of element of being made to understand something as to the how and why without being explicitly told. What's more, she was trained, albeit unwittingly in the aspect of reflection and discernment.

But Slaughter was terrific both in personality and approach as he was a very laid-back man in general. He was unlike most of the other teachers who like him doubled over as the coaches of some capacity. Slaughter was the basketball coach, and he was damned useful, and above all, he was much loved by the students just for his very nature. She remembered that day long afterward; the day Slaughter was made to resign his position. Hope never figured out why and, in all truth, it was probably for the best. All the same, Hope lamented when he left. But she no longer needed history classes at that point, but it didn't help that in a rare instance of non-self-absorption she realized how the loss of a teacher as good as Slaughter would, in fact, be detrimental to those who would be up and coming into the realm of history.

This session, however, Mr. Slaughter was absent due to the rotational in-service in his place was Nancy Garnett. She was a most interesting person to many, but Hope herself viewed Nancy with a select degree of indifference. Not that Hope didn't like Nancy, Hope valued her as a teacher, and Hope very much understood Nancy had the experience, but she was all the same indifferent. She and Nancy had their differences when she first came to the school. But these differences even in hindsight, were justifiable. Hope herself showed a form of aspiration early on a desire to be a writer. But as most in her position, her priorities for what she desired for her future were not wrong, but her focus was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This resulted in a stern act of discipline from Nancy who ceased her from writing at least in her class before her retirement. This mean a confiscation of anything upon Hope might write. Excess being the key here as excess material meant more chance of not paying attention.

However, not to be dissuaded, Hope continued to write whenever she got the chance, but that said learned from Nancy's correction and throughout her academic day, made the most of those periods of freedom that exist in every class. That period where the teacher, contented mainly with the feeling the point of their lesson had settled in with the students let them do as they wanted. For many, including Hope, this meant a time to utilize for the sake of getting most if not all homework done throughout the day. This allowance of time to work freed up many people to enjoy what they wanted to and those who chose not to take advantage of this time, well it was their choice.

This period Nancy adhered to Slaughter's original formula although all the students knew as was the custom for most if not all substitutes, there were no lectures. Just in Nancy's voice, grandma-ish and shrill was the direction to read the chapters assigned, and so long as the class was not too loud, they could do as they pleased, which Hope utilized to finish off her homework from music theory and review her compound notes from science. She got up and went over to Nancy and asked permission to go to the library. It was granted, and from there she headed up the hall into what she loved and deemed a personal inner sanctum.

She entered into the library the very smell of the place was invigorating. The scent of aged stationery complemented with the fallen rain upon the fresh-cut grass from the day before blown in by a beautiful breeze from the south; it always affected to set her up for the later part of the day. She said her usual hello to Ms. Prewitt, who was a woman of a gentle and sweet disposition and always willing to help.

Hope checked out service to a computer and once online she began searching out individual chemical components and even solid elements of those chemicals. Once she had written down what was considered necessary she expanded her search onto various aspects of entertainment namely who was who of the celebrity world so even in the scope of those who didn't entirely care; she wasn't considered out of the loop of what in the mind of young teenagers were deemed to be necessary. She did not care for this kind of thing as she saw celebrity gossip as "mindless drivel of the masses." In this aspect, she was not wrong, but it was better to have the latest scoop so that she was not alienated.

Once this was done, she went to the library and searched up what interested her. She took out what was her favorite book, _The Encyclopedia of Serial Killers _by Micheal Newton. She loved the book for it went into the mindsets as well as the background of the serial killers What Hope did not realize, however, is that it was an analysis of such people she was giving birth in herself to a love an understanding of the human creature. She loved the element that when everything was weighed into the balance, the things she felt many courts glossed over, such as upbringing, economic background, societal perception of the area of childhood as a youth, etc., etc. that one genuinely had a comprehensive and more complete avenue of analyzing actions to deliver a fitting verdict.

The view she held was that which would be explained to her by a fascinating teacher as "the true naivete of youth." But for now, she sated herself with the understanding she believed she held. Hope returned to her seat in Slaughter's room and waited for the tone.

The last class of the day was home economics came quicker than anticipated. This effect resulted from the aspect that Hope was preoccupied with her homework to liberate her evening. The class was for Hope a fun little endeavor. Even though it was in her mind generally acknowledged women had to have culinary skills, she didn't take the class just for the face-value of culinary skills and learning to sew and knit. She looked at the long-term. She looked at the viability of the skills she would learn and use realistically. She had to eat and to eat generally meant cooking to be sure of thorough decontamination. And so, she mastered the elements of essential recipes because basics to her translated to commodities as what most basic foods are made of. But just because it was a fundamental aspect didn't mean the food had to be tasteless and subsequently joyless.

Hope eventually became a rigorous experimenter with select recipes here and there in class being familiarized with the initial concept and the fundamentals. From here, she would experiment at home at times for herself and other times for herself and Hex to see if she could get an objective view of her food. Her favorite dish which she had mastered was pan-seared chicken marinated in tomato sauce with rice for body and portions of kale sprigs, onions, and peppers. She didn't like to make significant productions, but at the times when she had to make the dollar stretch, and Hex was out of money for the month, she would cobble together what she could and usually to a substantial effect. They never went hungry as a result, but they did run out of food near the end of the month, but luckily enough was made through odd jobs by both herself and Hex to get through the very last week.

After the school-day had passed, she headed home to settle in back at the apartment. Once home, she saw Hex was gone, but his study was locked shut. She knew better than to try and break in as a result of what happened last time, a magic-infused bolt delivering a terrible shock of current to her body. So, she left it alone and headed into the kitchen. There were a few things where she could make something enjoyable. She set the kettle on to boil, and as she waited, she sat down on a stool at the counter and began to read her book. She learned this time about the aspect of Dahmer and his cannibalistic exploits. She was reading about his childhood for a good while, and then her eyes darted up to the wall clock. Two minutes had passed. She closed the book and watched the clock and then proceeded to close her eyes.

She loved this time of the day; it was quiet for a while, just how she liked it. Her mind was released from stress in this environment, and she listened to the gentle graduation of the water in time to a boil. She had her eyes closed for ten seconds and then got up from her stool and went to a cabinet taking out a can of tuna, a Tupperware bowl with the accompanying lid, and two packages of ramen patties. She took the wrapped noodle patties and firmly squeezed the corners and worked her way inward using her index finger and thumb until the contents of both packages were sufficiently crushed inside without damage to the wrapper. This aspect completed, she opened the wrapping and poured the noodles into the Tupperware container. She opened the chicken-flavored seasoning and poured it on the noodles. Afterward she opened the tuna can, and after draining the juice, she dumped the chunks unto the bowl. The scream of the boiling water soon began to make itself known. Hope taking the kettle poured the boiling water over the combination until she had the level of water just over the noodles and tuna. She then put the lid on the Tupperware bowl. Reaching into the cupboard for a bag of nacho cheese Doritos, she opened the bag, opened the Tupperware bowl, crushed the chips into a fine powder and then sprinkled the dust into the bowl and stirred thoroughly with a fork before putting the lid back on.

Having made her afternoon snack, she gathered the mess she had made, and she threw the items into the trash. Afterward, she washed her hands thoroughly and dried them. She went into the living room and sat down, turning on the television and channel-surfed for a bit. Hope turned it off soon afterward, finding nothing to keep her interest. So, she went into her room to get on her laptop. She utilized a few videos from Youtube to entertain herself as it was more tailored to her preference. And it was not bad for what it was, a few music videos here and there and a couple of documentaries she loved to rewatch for the sake the narration and portrayal quality.

She checked her clock; eight minutes had passed, the perfect amount of time. She went back to the kitchen to the Tupperware container and reviewed her meal. Perfectly fluffy noodles, the body was sufficiently present by the tuna and Dorito powder. Hex's style would have been to add rice for more considerable heartiness, but it wasn't Hope's idea of good so she contented herself with what she had made and as she had made this numerous times, sat down at the kitchen table and ate in the quiet room.

A few moments passed, and the phone of the wall began to ring. Hope picked it up, and she asked, "Hello?'

"Hey, Silver, it's Walter," his voice was in a semi-hushed whisper.

"What's going on, Wally?" she asked, "and why are you whispering?"

"I just got tickets to the Third Horizon Trifecta concert," was the reply, "Do you want in? Bert and Holy Crusader are up for it, how about you?"

"Sure I'm in, but if you morons end up in a mosh pit again, it's on you." She replied.

"Sweet, awesome. A friend of my dad will be there. He's the one who got me the tickets, you know 'cause dad doesn't like rock so much."

"Oh yeah, is he also the one you also call uncle?" she asked.

"Yeah, Uncle Collins. You know the one Dad swore would be a great cut for a fashion model?"

Hope rolled her eyes and replied, "Oh yeah, I remember, the man who dresses exotically."

"Ah, Silver, don't put it like that. It makes it sound dirty or like he stepped out of the wilds of Mongolia or something."

"Steppes of Mongolia is what you're thinking," Hope replied

"Whatever, nerd. Look the concert's later this tonight down near Keagen Park on the fringe of Entertainment Lane, We'll meet at Sangria Ave. at Crusader's aunt's condo in an hour."

"Anything I need to bring?" Hope asked as she made a mental note of the location.

"Yeah, Bert says to bring the Hash he gave you for safety and Crusader wants you to bring her the leather she said you got for her."

Hope noted this, and she knew where the materials were, "Anything else?"

"Nah I think we're good, but if you want a case of Orchard's Bane wouldn't hurt."

"Ah…okay but if I get a case whoever requested it is paying me back for the shit, and we're bringing it in thermoses or canteens."

"Okay, chill Silver, you fucking Jew. You'll get the money. Geez."

"Hey, I'm going to risk a bit to get the stuff, so I expect compensation, and if you don't, we can play Nine-Pins."

Walter shuddered, "O..okay you'll get the stuff…we'll get the money. Meet us at Crusader's Aunt's place. 3rd floor Bentley Apartments Rm 30A."

Hope replied, "Done." She hung up the receiver.

Hope went to her room, and she opened the bottom drawer of her dresser, and underneath a couple of pairs of jeans, she found her treasure house which was a trick book that had the cover of treasure island. She pushed in the T which popped the clasps, and she opened the book.

Inside was her stash of five hundred and fifty dollars which she had saved steadily from a blend of the yearly birthdays and cashing in loose change she had accumulated over the years. Also, inside was her mother's ruby ring which Hex had been able to transport over before they came to Earth, a small velvet bag of some charms which she had spent the last four years steadily enduing with magic energy. And underneath this was a larger baggie that was plastic filled with Hashish. It was not her poison of choice; it was more Robert's style, but she held onto it for him as his footlocker was stuffed to the gills anyway on hustler magazines and the components to make bullets.

Hope put the stash of Hashish into a secret pocket in the bottom of her book bag. Once she was sure it was secure, she headed out down to the more commercial district of the town. She knew what the plan was as she'd done it several times. Elgram's was the main department store and go to for liquor in the town. She had her connection there, Paul who always let her in the back entrance to get the first pick of cold drinks. But as was usual there was still a favor that she had to do for him in exchange for free good booze. She peeked in through the back service-entrance to the small restaurant the store had, and Paul saw her. He gave a thumbs up and signaled for her to enter in, and she did.

She had a fifteen-second window, and so she said, "Orchard's Bane: Imperial Emerald." He nodded, and he got her a case of twenty bottles. She opened her backpack, and the whole pack fit neatly inside. She took out forty dollars and gave it to Paul.

He smiled and said, "Always good to do business with you." He gave her a brown paper bundle, and he said, "Your part of the deal."

She nodded and put it into her bag. She then disappeared as quickly as she came out the service-entrance and she headed down Seventh Street towards the local trolley station, the old relic from 1930 refurbished and given a facelift to move with the times. She was not going to buy a ticket, though. Waiting until it was underway, Hope sat on the back lip of the bus and hitched a free ride to her designated drop-off, the North Marina. Moving elegantly along the docks, unseen by the straggling workers on the evening shift, Hope reached into her bag and took out the bundle of brown paper and carefully unfolded it. It was a police standard-issue Glock. She sighed and channeling her mana fired it out a very healthy distance of several hundred feet into the sea beyond where it sank to the bottom. Hope then walked with the crumpled paper, and as she passed by the lower park, Mirabelle Park, she put the paper into a gentle burning barrel fire for fuel.

From here she had to collect the leatherwork, and it was effortless as she had the stuff on reserve for a good while for Old Man Mancini, the Italian suit and fashion aficionado of the city who had come from Sicily back in the 1950s. She went into his store, and she looked around, and she saw some people were in a somber mood.

Not wishing to be insensitive she found one of the usual workers there and said, "What happened, Becky?"

Becky was in in a hushed whisper, "Mr. Monsinni's little girl, Josie, remember her?"

Hope's eyes sharpened, "What happened?"

Becky said after choking back a sob, "She was killed in a shootout out near Melsin Mill. She was caught in the crossfire between police and the operators of the PCP labs.

Hope's eyes went wide. Josie was a sweet little girl of about ten years old. Whenever Hope saw her, Josie was captivated by her silver hair and always loved to play with it.

Hope's mind flashed back to the pistol and her fist clenched, Paul. Fucking Paul of all the shit he'd done, this took the cake.

She snapped back to the present, and she said, "I had some leather on reserve order, may I please get it and just leave?"

Becky nodded and opened the ledger, "Mountbatten, Hope. Order 339."

Becky went to the back room, and she brought out a sizeable ivory-colored box with the store's elegant cursive signature. Becky removed the lid from the box revealing what was inside: several lengths of smooth black leather.

Hope nodded, "That's it."

Becky rang up the item, "Three hundred forty-five dollars and fifty cents." Hope brought out three hundred and eighty and told her to keep the change to go toward Josie's funeral. Becky nodded and put the remaining difference into a black lock box under the counter.

She smiled at Hope, "Thank you, the old man will appreciate it. I know how much Josie meant to you."

Hope nodded and left. Her heart was beating, and now her face was burning with hate. _"Any other girl," _she said, grating her teeth and growling to herself,_ Any other girl except the little one. God-Damn You, Paul!" _

Hope headed up towards Sangria Avenue which the very name to her would have usually been seen as a hilarious joke was now devoid of any humor. She came to The Bentley Apartments and looking at the apartment numbers she buzzed 30A.

A woman's voice said, "Who is it?'

"It's Silver." was Hope's reply.

The buzzer rang, and she opened the door into the apartments. The décor was a charming and rich warm wood. Not quite mahogany but a magnificent sight no less. A few nice plants accented the walls even if they were plastic, were a nice touch. Hope pressed up button on the very finely wrought gold push pad. The elevator dinged with a crisp and vibrant sound exemplary of the polish and prestige of the those who lived in these apartments. She pressed floor three, and the doors closed so smoothly and silently.

As the ascent began, Hope was thinking on a few things, she was reflecting on her day. It was suitable up until she genuinely had to reflect on all that had happened. Still, the anger burned deep within her. Her mind flashed as she knew where Paul lived, she knew all his damnable, dirty secrets, and she had helped him get away before. But now, it had changed so very much.

"Why?" came a whisper, gentle, but it snapped Hope out of her rage, "Why is this one any different than the ones who came before?"

"She was a beautiful innocent kid; she didn't do anything to deserve this!" She replied to the space, weeping gently.

"Oh Hope, you know the reason you truly hurt." Replied the voice, still so smooth and gentle.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you tell me!"

"You hurt because that life, unlike all the others, was so precious to you. You formed a sense of love and connection to her. That is why you are so outraged right now. You loved her smile, her laughter, her playing with your hair. Hope, don't give in, don't give up yet. I know you hurt, I know you do, and I can see you as you know I can. Listen to me, please."

But Hope cared nothing for the voice, and when the door opened, she stepped out, and she heard the voice but louder, "Hope, if you go down this course, you know what will happen. You know. I am warning you now, stop before it's too late."

Hope stopped for just a moment and then moved onward towards the apartment her mind was made up, her heart burned for what she knew she had to do, but her conscience began to scream aloud and even though it cried out with utmost passion she silenced the voice. Her soul was set on what she must do…" _for it is something my father would have done." _ Her face though impassioned in rage her eyes, burning, this vanished as one would take off a masque as she knocked firmly four times at the door.

The door opened, and Walter was there. Hope looked at him, "Forget the concert for right now. We four have work to do."

AN: So glad this chapter is finished. It took a lot to set Hope up in the light I desired, but I am beyond happy with it. Please Read and Review.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sharp, potent pain resounded in her stomach, and she was viciously staggered back. Hope cried out in pain and as she focused a kick came and knocked her hard in the head causing her to spin like somewhat a top until she fell to the ground. She began to weep.

The man's voice around her said, "You brought this on yourself. He tried to warn you. But you wouldn't listen, and now you pay for it. It is better it comes from my hand than from the unrelenting hand of tainted human justice."

Hope tried to get up and she managed to and with a dreadful scream of both anger and fright she charged forward. The man side-stepped as gracefully as if he was a swan and with a sweep, knocked her left leg out from under her and with a whirl, he delivered another kick into the center of her chest sending her back but farther until the smack of her body was felt against the wall. She fell winded to the ground clutching her now inflamed stomach and aching chest.

She looked at the man as she struggled to breathe as he approached. Forty if he was a day, he was despite this, so beautiful. He was tall around 5'11 maybe six foot. Dressed in black jeans, perfectly laced and tied combat-boots a midnight-blue V-neck which showed off his pecks that seemed so perfectly sculpted just from glimpse alone. His hair was neatly cut not entirely military but just enough length to be stylish. His glasses were aviators, gold framed, and a lavender purple reflective lens. His teeth were remarkably white from what she had seen. So much so that she thinks she could see them in the pitch black. He stood silent and stoic, an Adonis of a soldier. Authoritative, strong, stoic, but deathly calm. He stood at attention his eyes she could feel fixed on him through the tinted mirrors of his glasses.

"Hope, this is the consequence of the struggle." The man said, his tone not condescending or derogatory but matter of fact, "This is the struggle and the lesson learned from the want to follow your will to meet your selfish human desires, whereas you could have listened to Him from the get-go and been given what you needed and not suffered this pain as consequence. But now, here we are. You wanted to act out of vengeance and out of hate. You went into the arena of judgment, and you acted as judge, your cronies acted as your puppet jury, and you acted as executioner. It is not your place to perform either office

And I know what you think, "Had I not done it, he would have gotten away that monster that fucking Paul would have gotten away." An interesting hypocrite is what you are. See, you turned a blind eye to Paul's shit for a long time; it was as He said to you before you started, "You only cared now because Josie was someone you cared about." And yes, you can argue she was connected to someone you cared about, oh how sweet reasoning to sate your conscience. But you still ignored so much other pain, Hope. So many other men and women who lost their kids in similar manners and you didn't bat an eyelash. Disposing of evidence so long as you got what? So long as you got some fucking beer that is no better than cat piss. And how very cheaply those very lives you swept under the rug till now were bought. Three cases of beer per life."

Hope was able to stand barely but she could. She utilized a basic spell to heal up her stomach so she could go forward. Hope glared at the man, and he looked at her, his face stoic, his eyes hidden by those impenetrable lenses. She looked at him and her hatred boiled and burned within, but she didn't by any shred of measure intimidate the man before her. Hope saw a pole behind him, and she tried to utilize what she could of the Unseen Hand technique. The technique used in an attempt to blind-side him as she was able to grasp the iron pole and she began swinging, but the man did the splits, making her miss him entirely. Then the man rolled left, making her miss yet again. The man reached out an extended hand in Hope's direction and then his other hand at the bar, and the connection was severed. The pole came down with a reverberating clang. The man got back up to his feet and was silent. Hope couldn't believe how this forty-something was able just to cut the connection like that.

"I'll tell you how." He replied, the shock that he could see into her brain was alarming "I was once so very much like you. I thought I knew every-fucking-thing under the damn sun. I thought I knew so much that I believed myself to know, a lot like you, all there was needed to know. The man or woman who thinks they know everything, they are setting themselves up for a fall.

I understand your culture and your heritage. Hope, that's why He sent me to you to perform this correction. I was once a great swordsman for the nation of Ledger-Domain this was far before you were even a glint in your dad's eye. I served what I believed to be dutifully; I slew and slaughtered. Murdered and conquered all for what I perceived to be a great and noble family. I was like you, I thought at a young age I did know it all. I knew all the moves and maneuvers of swordplay. I had slain many, countless sons and daughters, but what I cared about was the glory, the glory that came from the fear. This perception of power and subsequent respect was a lie I found out later. Respect doesn't come from fear. "

Hope concentrated while he talked, and she tried again with the technique trying to be surer with her strikes. But as she worked, the man dodged and was patient, dodging, rolling, flipping, back-flipping. And then again, he cut her connection before continuing.

"As I was saying, I was so confident that I couldn't be toppled. This confidence stemmed from experience as I had fought some truly worthy foes who had defeated me, but I came back stronger, learned from them, learned from their correction and my hot-headedness. I perfected my skills and refined my elements. Again, I rose, again, loving the element of fear and what I perceived as respect. But then, I came across a new champion. The man was mysterious yet beautiful. His face, hidden from me, but his actions and skill with the blade, so very precise and what could only be described as that of a true master of his craft. But more than those I was drawn to his honor, his nobleness, and fairness. It was something I had never seen before or since, and from that I desired to be like him."

Hope tried again getting a better grip, but instead, she decided to come from above, "Then why not marry the guy, you are such a fucking gay lord." She shattered a set of bulbs now restricting the room to half-darkness. The shards she used to the best of her ability using them as a series of small knives and daggers to attempt to strike the man before her. But she was still amazed that the man kept flipping, dodging, and went so far as to rebound off a wall and as she saw this, she sent the shards at him from below. She focused on him in her rage, and she saw he gave a form of finger-gun in her direction, and the connection was severed once more, and what was more noticeable, was a growing literal headache.

The man landed gracefully in the light he seemed to smile not in a smirk, but damn was it annoying to Hope. "If you're truly here at His behest, why the fuck did you kill my friends?" She yelled, "Why?! If you are truly representative of who you claim to be, I know He wouldn't do as you have done."

The man laughed just a bit, "Incorrect. Read the story of King David. See, he did as you did. A man who was a nobleman of God but he too fell a couple of important times, as we all do. He lusted after a woman he saw bathing; Bathsheba was her name. She was married to a Hittite by the name of Uriah who served in David's army. Now David committed adultery with Bathsheba, and she fell pregnant by him. Now David, though indeed a man of God or the Master as you call him, David was still human. Human desires, human impulses, human deviousness which was stemming from mortal fear of being caught. Because he knew he did was a genuinely deadly sin, never mind disgraceful.

However, it didn't mean David still didn't try all manner of avenues to try and get away with his sin. But all manner of unexpected things also got in his way of him achieving his selfish end of cover his shame. Again, not unlike you and your friends. Ultimately, to conceal his sin, he had Uriah killed and took Bathsheba as a wife. But see that didn't work out so well at all. God or The Master, did not like that at all, so He sent His prophet Nathan to David and after council when Nathan confronted the king with his misdeed in the form of parable, David already outraged at the story of the parable said, "As surely as the LORD lives, the man who did this deserves to die!" When told by Nathan, "You are that man." And further on the Lord's verdict of punishment, as you will read, it is exceptionally severe in that not only is the Lord's decree to bring real public shame to David but also to take the son he sired with Bathsheba.

Now you may indeed call this a tyrannical God but here's the thing, as God said, "You acted in secret, but I will do this before all Israel and in broad daylight." What's more what you, Hope, perceive me of doing wrong that God would never do as I have done, kill your friends. Don't be a fool.

His wrath is there, as is His judgment at the end of the day. He is slow to anger, sure. But He does anger. But He is not unjust; it merely is not in His nature. Contrarily He is the epitome of justice because guess what Hope? He set the standard of justice. Tyranny in your young, proud, and haughty mind, no that is not from Him. But you will find before your life ends the cruelty and evil that mankind _both _of man woman do. And so too, yourself. For humanity perverts justice in a desire to, as you do, to serve and fulfill the lusts and wants of your damned selfish heart."

Hope burned with anger, and now she tapped into her more directly applied magic, and she fired many bolts at the man before her. As she fought, she reflected on just how all of this came to pass. How what started as a genuinely typical day and a trip to see a concert that evening had devolved into murder and upon completion of the act, the deaths of those she had come to care about truly. But now, none of that truly mattered. But in her heart, if it had to matter, it only served a fuel of a perceived self-righteous fury to serve her main goal now the only one that mattered at present: To shut this accuser up forever.

Hope was getting a better handle on her rage as she tried to focus more on hitting a very agile target, "You didn't have to kill them! You fucking asshole!" continuing sustained firing of magic-induced blasts.

The man danced around, gliding under and jumping over each blast, "And you didn't have to kill Paul, but you did. Paul's death in association with the several deaths you also ignored for your benefit, oh yes, I'd say this balanced out quite nicely."

"Oh yeah?! Well, what the fuck would you have done? Have you ever been in my position, did you even care how I concluded Paul's death even happen? No, you only care about spouting your platitudes."

The man's seemingly stoic nature stopped, and he landed firmly on the ground, and with an outstretching of hand, Hope's mana was fizzled and went dry. Hope panicked as she saw this happened and tried very hard to generate some degree of mana to her hands. She panicked, even more, finding the effects of what this person had done as nothing worked. When she could usually feel her aura around her, it was a heated feeling, thus why she never was cold. But now, she felt quite cold. She looked at the man before her. He had not moved an inch not even so much as a muscle.

"What…what did you do?" she asked in a stunned but barely audible voice. She was now terrified. Cut off from her power that even Hex's principles of reconnection couldn't' effect. They had always been the surefire solution and now, nothing.

The man looked at her, knowing precisely what happened to her. For he remembered how it happened to him, but in a different way. He walked away from Hope just for a moment and came back with two lawn chairs and set them up. He sat across from the empty chair, and he gestured to her to sit in front of him. She was afraid, and rightly so. This man had appeared when everything with Paul and his friends had gone to shit. The sheer speed and precision by which she witnessed all her friends defeated by this person's hand, first as a group then even more quickly as individuals. She remembered how they all fought the being before them, but she remembered now her rage had settled how the man had done as he had been doing with her, all of her attacks seemed to do nothing, worse than nothing, not even connecting.

Hope was even more terrified than before as now this man was a mere two feet from her and the truth dawned on her, and this man was hardly trying. He had broken a sweat, sure, but apart from that, he was entirely untouched, not even so much as a scratch or a burn from the energy she was firing out. There was now silence between them, but inside her chest, her heart beat fast, and she was petrified. But the man saw this as he was in her situation many times.

He spoke, the very tone of his voice, soft and seemingly almost fatherly, "Hope, I have been where you were. I killed so many because I thought I was, like you, so very right. As you did, I acted without mercy or pity in my heart to exercise my perception of justice when, in all reality, it was vengeance tempered by hatred. Just like you, I met someone who more than outclassed me, but he was in every way, someone who after being soundly defeated, I truly wanted to be. As you are angry with me, what you think I have done, or what you think I don't understand, so I to was mad at my teacher.

My teacher, as I began to tell you, but you so callously cut me off, was everything I was not. And it hurt me that as it hurts you now, my perceptions of right and wrong and my way were just as flawed if not more so than your own. But then, something happened just it happened to you. All my power that I felt I could use to fight this man, all this skill and my perception of honor and prowess, meant _nothing_. As you grew frustrated with me, that you just now realized you didn't even touch me, so did I grow with my teacher.

My most beautiful works and techniques with my blade, the countless foes I had slain, all these men and women long dead moldering in their graves, all the hard-won victories and my haughty triumphs as I performed mock toasts to them in arrogant pride, meant absolutely _nothing_. Because of the fact, The Master…God was with and within this person. If He has turned his sword against you, you will look the fool countless times over until you have learned.

You are here now, learning in this way because I know what is to come for you should you choose to continue down this path willingly. Just as I have come against you at His behest to instruct you, it doesn't matter if I beat you to a pulp because it will only harden you more against what I say. Equally, if knowledge is given to you, you are no longer ignorant as to the wrong you do. But that said, it won't do any good if you choose not to apply it. Despite the hand, I am using against you measured in fairness as it is, if you continue down your path, you will meet with far harsher hands and more vicious minds to show you just what I wanted to teach you from the beginning. So it's up to you. What do you prefer?"

Hope was silent for a long time now that she has somewhat regained composure. She sighed and asked, "Why are you so eager to help me? Me of all people?"

The man looked at her, "Why not you? If a teacher sees a path in a youth where he has failed but knows how to actively help turn the results around before it is too late, would he not do so? If not for the sake of the individual he is teaching, that even if the individual is not reached, how to better refine his process to address similarly troubled people?"

Hope pondered this for a moment and then said, "I had heard of you from my father from the stories when I was young. I think I know who you are. You are Itrion formerly known as Itrion the Emasculator of the nation of Terath…correct?"

The man smiled somewhat, "Yes. But I come to you now, because He sent me. To help you to teach you if you are willing, but if not willing to learn, I can't help you, and all reality, no one can. But because I was humbled much as you were by my hand, I know that you can learn, and can learn, but like me, you have to put aside your assumptions and your half-baked knowledge before you proceed. It's okay to hold onto some remnants of those aspects. But the more you do, the more you will learn that you are proven wrong or your view is completely flipped on its head. That is a vital part of growth. To surrender in the end, you know far less than you thought."

Hope nodded, "Look, I knew you were a great swordsman, but why do you fight me with no weapon such a sword?"

Itrion smiled a little bit more now, "You see, I could give you a huge big-worded expositional bit of metaphysical BS, but in all reality, I forsook the sword even the sword the Master had given me because I truly wanted again on some level to embrace inner savagery. I want you to understand something right now. Just because you follow God or the Master, whatever you wish to call Him, it doesn't mean at all that your life is easier. In some regards, yes, but it also means the direct opposite honestly in many cases. But with that direct opposite in play, the benefits are unseen and seen but also immensely outweigh what is considered victory in this little world."

Hope was a bit visibly confused, and she asked, "What does that mean, 'victory in this little world?'

Itrion replied, "Well, it is directly what it means. See, it depends heavily on the individual in this context and what that individual considers to be a true victory. However, as I have seen both in myself and most people, consensus truly sees victory as how many cars you have. If not, how many academic degrees you have, how much money you may possess, how many people you may be related to by blood of prominence. At first glance alone, it is clear what many do consider victory, the vanities of this world, the treasures of this world and if not this, the praise of their fellow men and women resulting from the accruing of such aspects. This praise is turning into a legacy. Thus, as I have learned, there is no more poisonous a word or dangerous an aspiration than that of legacy."

Hope looked at Itrion and said, "So when you go back to savagery what did you mean exactly?"

"I mean that I was tired of the sword. I didn't see the value that it was; I didn't know the dedication and prowess I had attained once I had gone to God from my own life of pride. And subsequently how He blessed me with prominence and skill leading to victory against truly insurmountable odds by _willed _by Him. That said though; I also left because I was enthralled with the aspect of mastery of martial arts, but even then when I fully immersed myself, I fought without honor and quarter because my mindset had again fallen to the way of the world yet again.

It's like this. I traded in and left even more accurately the more noble path. This path was the way and the teachings of God in the form and use of the sword, which made me more magnificent than I ever was before, _ever._ This realization was in time revealed to me, that I had left the more skillful path and substituted it for the mundane for the more straightforward way, the quicker route, the path that required not so thought, practice or sacrifice. And from it, I traded in my sophistication and learned disciplines from God, and I embraced a simpler path that was more gratifying immediately but even then, I realized the challenge was not so much there, and I yearn right now go back to the way of the sword. To its art and discipline and patience required.

Imagine if you will that you have had an immense skill from a basic level, but also that you attained higher and even your most excellent skill from a God who wishes to let you be a testimony of Him through the power He gives you to conquer even your mightiest foes. But because you are tired of it, you leave it, and you embrace a more savage, more admittedly foul art without class or dignity or bearing or patience or anything required to win so much as grit and want to defeat an enemy. But because you want that instant gratification, that great feeling of the rush of real vicious conflict, you embrace a way that is not anything like what you came from and so you become savage, cruel, angry reflecting the people which you fight and the new art of fighting which you like because of fame and fortune primarily."

Hope listened, "It sounds like you were spitting in your God's face when you left what He gave you and yet you embrace this new way."

Itrion smiled a beautiful smile, "Exactly and because I immersed myself is savagery, gore, love of violence for violence's sake to exude my power…well, suffice to say you can't exactly shed that coat overnight. To go back to the way of the sword and you will find God's methods which secured you victory have left you and it's not that they are gone forever but like with anything, you have to choose what you want. And for me, even though I am His servant, I have free choice to do as I wish, but in the end, I have to choose to honor myself or Him, and in the grand scheme I'm still learning because trust me, it's hard to live to the standard He sets if not impossible. But doesn't mean you don't try. But like with me, if I forsake his gifts to me for my want, selfish as it is, well I made my choice. But in the end, you realize that way is just not profitable and shows itself to be the conduct of the selfish person.

So yes, after you leave, I'm going to go back to Him and take up the swords He gave me. Because I asked Him for His verdict on my weapons, this submission was to make me into what He wanted. And I fell away from that. I regret it and if it means learning the hard way, being cut and beaten and stabbed, thrown off cliffs, etc., so be it. I will relearn, and I won't leave again so long as it is in my power to do so. Don't be distracted Hope by the ways and flash and flattery of the world outside. Because it's enticing, I dare not deny it. I fell to it many times. But consider what it takes you away from more than what it gives you. Sit down and think about it. You have a chance, a second chance.

Listen to me as I tell you this, you now know the consequences from my hand alone of following your own path, the loss of your friends, the loss of what would have been your true freedom, a real agonizing gut-punch into your liberty that you threw away because you desired to take the law into your own hands. You are no longer ignorant. You know, right and wrong. You now have no business doing wrong if you not naive and know better. What comes of your life from now on, is decided by your hand alone. I have done what is in my power to do, and now it falls to you. Wake up."

Hope saw Itrion become blurry and then particles of dust the place where she was dissolved. Now she felt feverish, sick, nauseous. It was feeling of delirium as her world tossed and spiraled her body. Her mind and body feeling as if it were a doll knocked too and fro by an invisible force almost akin to the wind and then suddenly a rapid descent into greyish white light, and later her vision became blurry as she was able to focus on the soft glow of the lights above her.

She came to her senses gradually as the setting of the room she was in began to take place a woman in a green uniform came in and looked surprised as Hope's vision adjusted. The woman pushed a button on the wall, and soon a middle-aged man with dark brown skin and greying hair came in. He felt her ankles and then took her temperature and wrote down some results.

He looked at her and said, "Hello, child. I am Dr. Zahed Ninkasi. Your friends brought you here three days ago. They said you came to their apartment and you were angry, and then you became extremely feverish before collapsing. They brought you here and since you were admitted you had had several seizures in three days. You are seemingly okay for now as we have stabilized you. However, we need you to stay rested and stay calm. Your uncle was notified as soon as you came in, and he has been here very regularly. One of our staff is calling him now. He'll be here soon."

"What—" Hope was still shaken from her conversation with Itrion, and she said, "what exactly happened?"

Dr. Ninkasi replied, "Your friends said you were very sick, but it was sudden illness out of nowhere. Your fever at its peak was 104.4. We battled whatever was in you with what we could. You had all manner of ranting and ravings we attributed to this sickness but none of it any sense. But you are somewhat stabilized for now. What happened to you that you last remember?"

Hope was hesitant, and she said, "I knocked on my friend's apartment door, after that, nothing." She decided to leave out her anger against Paul as it might draw suspicion.

Dr. Ninkasi nodded, and he said, "We will check in on you periodically now you are more alert. If all goes as we foresee, you will be released after you complete some tests to verify that you can go back home. Once you have done that to satisfaction, you may leave. Is that understood?"

Hope nodded, and Ninkasi looked at Hex who had come to see his niece. Hex came in and sat down, and Ninkasi went on about his business.

Hex sat down, and he looked at her, "I didn't know what happened to you at all until I got the call from Eca's father. What happened Hope?"

Hope was in a state of confusion, a touch of fear, but more than that she remembered Itrion, the middle-aged man in purple-tinted sunglasses, "I…I don't know." She replied as she was trying to piece it together.

Hex looked at her, "You were violently ill you had seizures and fever and all manner of stuff happening, what happened leading up to it?"

Hope was still too afraid to answer directly, but she went over the events that led up to her being in the hospital. Her friends had taken her there, and they were alive. Was it all just a bad dream? Was it indeed just a nightmare from a fevered fantasy?"

Hope looked at Hex, "Uncle, do you remember the story of Itrion?"

He nodded, "One of the very finest swordsmen of our neighboring nations. Why?"

"Where is he? Did he leave as we did?"

Hex hesitated to answer but then came up with another avenue, "Why do you ask?"

Hope was afraid at first, but she had to tell someone. She looked at Hex, and she invoked with what remained of her strength a silent prism which only they could talk. Hope told him the entire story of finding out about Josie's death, how she knew the man responsible, and how she wanted to kill him. But before being able to act upon It, suddenly just blacked out. But it wasn't so much a blackout it was the fact she had acted on her impulses, and from it, that her friends were killed by Irithan and how he said that God had sent him to warn her and all that what seemed to be a dream entailed.

Hex's eyes looked surprised at all of this, and then his voice shook just a bit as he replied. "No, this can't be Hope. It just can't."

Hope looked at him, "Why not? It was as clear as anything, this man who I came to know from his testimony from how he looked his very essence just was so real. He beat the shit out of me!"

Hex replied, "It can't happen because he's been dead for eight years, Hope. One of the last resistors against Adwaita who was killed by him. He's died and has been in the grave for a while."

Hope couldn't believe it, but it made sense all that this dream if it was a dream, had said. But it was a dream evidently because her friends were still alive and brought her to the hospital. She couldn't wrap her head around it. She usually knew her dreams. Well enough to know that pain was not so much even a register, but this time, it was so real, the pain of the kicks, the force of them delivered by a booted foot felt so real.

She then said, "Wait…if I can describe him, can you tell me if it's accurate?"

Hex was apprehensive, but he thought she could because Hope had never seen Itrion before, and his likeness was never committed to paper as he loved that aspect of the mystique. "Go ahead."

Hope described the man who had identified himself as Itiron as she was still so very captivated by his beauty but also his firmness and sincerity.

When she had finished, Hope looked at Hex, who looked transfixed. For he knew she had seen the real being. The hero who fell and was remade, the hero who saved many fighting the tyrant but was burned to ash by all reports. Hope had described him so correctly that it was entirely moot for argument. But more than amazement, it was fear. For her testimony threw all of his perceived understanding of laws out the window. He snapped his fingers ending the incantation his niece has started.

He got up from his seat and said, "I have to get some things ready at home. I'll be back tomorrow until you are out of the hospital." He began to leave and said, "You did see him. I don't know how; I don't know why. I just…don't know."

He left, soon after Hope rested her head against the pillow as she closed her eyes. She breathed just a bit quicker than usual and then calmed as she asked herself, '_What does this mean?'_

AN: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please read and review.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Please read and review. Thank you.**

Chapter 5

The events of the past few days had both equally confused Hope and humbled her. She had wanted to destroy Paul for his actions of killing Josie. But she was struck with illness and stopped before even having an aspect of her plan in motion. This was not an accident. She remembered the firm hand of Itrion and his lesson and yet when she told Hex he was visibly bothered by what she had said. As if she had a glimpse into something utterly foreign to what he understood. Now that she had returned home, she was quiet, more meditative than before.

Hope was unable to truly grasp what had happened entirely. But the lesson was there; she remembered the pain so distinctly from the powerful kicks. Where Hope was even though she was asleep felt so very real, so very physically present, she couldn't deny that it had happened. It was a dream that was so impactful that Hope remembered Itrion's voice she remembered the feeling so distinctly that she was in the presence of someone who had walked a different path from herself but also had walked the path she contemplated running down for the sake of self-righteousness. And it was even hard to admit now that it was self-righteousness at best, and hypocrisy at worst. To say Hope was confused would not at all accurately present what was happening in her mind. But in all reality, she couldn't know for herself just what was happening.

The few days she had to recuperate, Hope just rested and wanted to contemplate a bit more honestly. But neither time nor life stands still for too long. When she got more of her strength back, she went around town a bit here and there. Thankfully the illness took place during the spring break and so she had dodged a bullet there. She walked around uptown, and she looked at the various storefronts. The same usual degree of things was on display. She didn't know why, but this day, she felt a bit sad. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to bullyrag the rest of her soul out about it. Walking along Grand St. she headed towards the bowling alley. She entered, and she saw old-man Gibbons.

Old-man Gibbons was perhaps one of the very most courteous people she could have ever met. When she was a young girl, he was patient with her and very kind. He always was attentive, listening to her stories, and always let her play pins for half-price. Going up to him, she saw that this day was a bit different for the ordinarily warm and happy soul. Approaching him, Hope saw just the tiniest bit of tears in his eyes and not so much dread as it was genuine sadness, plain and simple.

Hope touched the aged shoulder and to get his attention. 'He has grown so very frail.' was the thought in her mind. He turned, and his deep brown eyes looked at hers.

"Hello, little lady." he said with a half-smile, "how are you?"

Hope was about to say what had happened but then said instead, "How are you, sir?"

Gibbons looked at her and gestured with his hand for her to sit down, "It's just been very hard as of late."

Hope sat down and saw that he had indeed become so skinny, he was weak, frail, and in truth, she was amazed he still stood.

"I was diagnosed with cancer a year ago, and it's just…just been hard. The treatments made me feel like absolute shit and then it was revealed to me that it had progressed so fast that anymore, what I take is to stall the inevitable, it doesn't stop it."

Hope could genuinely see the pain in the old gentleman's eyes, but she knew it wasn't for himself that he cried. It was for his grandson Billy who had lived with him since first she knew old-man Gibbons. Billy was a nearly grown man, but at the same time, he had challenges. He was smart, very smart, very learned in books and much like herself, Billy didn't like to be demeaned. However, Billy was clearly disconnected in some way. He was slow at times but over-thought in others and was medicated to help him with his condition. For all his intelligence, Billy needed direction, and someone to help him and check in on him from time to time.

But Hope knew that for all the town knew it. But they loved Billy as did she. Sure, he was brash and had lousy judgment after being angered, and a bit seemingly insensitive but it was just how he was. Hope never faulted him for that because she found him to be the real article. At the same time, she knew the fear of old-man Gibbons because Billy was all Gibbons had left, and Gibbons was all Billy had left. Billy loved his grandpa so very much, and Hope knew when she would talk to Billy that he wasn't dumb either. Hope knew Billy saw what was going on, but understandably didn't want to talk about it. But she knew why this was so. One, of course, was the apparent prospect of losing someone so very precious. The other was that Billy loved always to say, "I have a plan, and here's how it will work." But Billy had no plan this time. A combination of sadness and dread consumed the young man and Hope knew it.

Hope knew very well that Billy just wanted to appear steady and in control of this situation. But she knew as did everyone; it was so very far from the truth. Old-man-Gibbons she knew though held on for Billy more than anything else as the old soul wanted to ensure his grandson who he had indeed come to know as his son had everything in order as he could. Equally though, she knew it was just a matter of time and as callous as her observation even internally she knew it sounded, not even she could imagine the impact that would result of the passing of Old-Man Gibbons.

For the greater part of two hours, Hope talked to her friend, and she knew he needed it more than she did. But she very much understood the pain, but more accurately she thought she did. And so, with this service done, she went on and bowled two sets, and the effects were marginally better than last time. But it was relaxing just to throw the ball and watch the speed as the pins were knocked cleanly. Once finished, she turned in her shoes and headed back outside where it had begun to gently rain, but it was no more than drizzle at best complimented by the fresh and sweet wind from the southeast. Hope relished this state of the weather and just stood to let the wind blow through her hair and around her. It was relaxing, and even dare she admit, freeing.

"Hope!" a voice was heard from behind, and she turned to see her addresser. It was Robert.

Smiling, Hope waved towards the rapidly approaching Robert. He was getting steadily stronger over time due to his work mainly in landscaping and if not that, it was through his part-time job with Waste Management. He had these benefits of employment so early mostly because of the pull his own family had and from this Robert was steadily making while admittedly below average wage, he was still making bank even more so than most his age.

"How's it going since you were in the hospital?" Robert asked when he had gotten to her.

"I'm alright, in general. You know, kind of the usual. Why what's up with you?"

"Nothin' just wanted to see if you were okay. I kinda surprised you're up and about so relatively soon after."

"Well, my balance returned relatively quickly, and it took a bit to convince the doctors that I was able to go home anyway."

"Alright, just wanted to check in because I don't want you over-exerting or anything and I was kinda worried. Because if Wally didn't catch you-you would have fuckin' faceplanted in the floor that's for damn sure."

"Well true, at the same time, eh, it's just what it is. The doctors chalk it up to some bug or something as it came on so quick."

"That's one hell of a damn super-bug if it can knock you out for three days. Just saying."

"I know, and thank you for your concern, Robbie."

"Sure thing. You know we misfits gotta' stick together don't we?"

"Oh, how was the concert by the way I'm sorry those plans got shot in the foot."

"Pfft, we didn't even go. Crusader went because her parents had to some catering gig which turned out to be total shit anyway."

"You serious?"

"I wish I weren't, but yeah. That traitor was caught on one of the survey cams partying it up. Catering gig my ass. She didn't want to miss out on the concert, that's all."

"Can't blame her, Robbie, she wanted to enjoy herself."

"The hell I can't! When one of your sisters or brothers fall ill like you did, sick or not, you aren't going to any damned concert, and so we're as group avoiding her."

"But Robbie, it's her choice to go."

"Choice or not, Silver, it's the principle. We all know you wouldn't go to a damned concert even if it were by Aerosmith if one of us fell ill. It's like when you knew that fancy pants King Tut exhibit was coming in, sure we all wanted to see it. But Wally banged himself up in a fight, and we weren't going to see the thing without him. And it didn't matter much anyway because the exhibit came back around a few months later only in Boston. My point being, it's not worth being a sellout to your friends, especially for something that eventually comes back around for another pass."

Hope understood very well what he was saying and just the fact he was this loyal, truly endeared him even greater to her. She nodded, "Your damn right, Robbie."

"Course I am. See, Crusader is only what is good for her, when it suits her convenience, and sure, you can very well say that of most if not all people. However, even the most hardened souls have some sense of loyalty somewhere."

Hope pondered this as she walked with Robert towards the intersection, "But what if they don't have any loyalty to anyone else?"

"It's a fuckin' lonely world, that's what. No man is an island no matter who you are. Everyone needs someone to care for and comfort because I would say it's a very much mandatory need of being a human. In loving someone other than yourself, you are living in the hope of that reciprocated love at some point. If that love doesn't exactly return to you, it shouldn't matter. Why? Because to me, the fact that you showed someone else that love from you, even if they never showed you love in return, who is the greater victor?"

"But what about people who use other's love against them?" Hope countered as they crossed the street, "What about them?"

"That depends case by case on the individual, Silver. Because in this dynamic you present, there is one willingly giving love, freely giving love whatever form it may take for them. However, if that other person uses that love, mistaking kindness for weakness, that person who is using that love is very wrong. However, if the giver of love doesn't address the issue and allows this to continue, they are even more to blame. However, they'd have to know they were being used."

"But, Robbie, wouldn't most people know they are being used? I mean it seems quite self-evident that you might have a strong clue."

Robert took out a cigarette from his jacket and lit it, "Well…you say that. But it's not so black and white as that all the time," he took in a massive drag of the cigarette and then released it slowly as he walked, "see what you have to come to grips with is that even though to the observer, this person may be being used, it speaks to the very human element of hope. Hope being that even though they know this is happening to them by another that they try to want to love and reach, that even though they see what is wrong and indeed happening, it will stop and their actions being appreciated for what they are."

Hope arched an eyebrow as they came underneath an awning and she stopped as the sun was beginning to bear down, "But to me, that seems the epitome of foolish. If one knows this person is doing wrong, then why hold onto a seemingly vain hope that it'll stop?"

Robert smiled, "Human optimism, Silver. It's human to want to hope for that kind of outcome. However, as is learned by many of the generous nature, the kindness and generosity they exude is taken for weakness. It's not that you can't be kind to others, neither that you can't be charitable nor helpful. However, in all reality, the generous man or woman comes to acknowledge in time that we are in a very predatory and opportunistic world. If a person sees a means by which they can get something for totally free, they will take it. It's a loved word if not the most loved word in the human language. But just as there are those who are very generous, there are those equally as greedy for that generosity."

Hope continued to think about this, and she asked, "Can you give me an example?"

Robert spat out the side of his mouth and replied, "Sure. I have a friend, and he is a very generous sort; he loves to help and be kind to people because it's mostly just who he is. But also, he's lonely, see so in a way he gets a bit of something out of his generosity, namely the company of other people. So, he starts to take a newcomer to his church to lunch at first just out of a very kind gesture and he did this gesture a couple of times. However, as he came to realize this woman loved the fact, he was treating her. At the same time, that woman exploited the fuck out of his kindness. She was very much a user of people. See she had gotten accustomed to this kind of behavior from him and so it came to a point where the last breakfast they had, was, in fact, his decided last one.

See, what had happened was during this last visit, she came to his door and said, "Wanna go to breakfast?" He was wary at that time because his suspicions as to the shit she was pulling were proving more and more accurate. It made him mad when she comes into his house at his invitation and then says to the effect, also can you buy me a pack of cigarettes? And that's where he just had his suspicions confirmed. And so, from this example, you can see what I'm talking about more clearly. Yes, my friend was a bit of a dummy for allowing it to get that far, but the benefit was that the moron moved away and never bothered him again. But overall you get the picture."

Hope nodded and began to feel the heat indeed come on. It was the way for this part of the year. The heat would build gradually after rain. She and her friends always would call it either broiler or vegetable steamer, the only difference being how much rain had fallen and how much was still standing. The higher the amount to be vaporized by the sun fell into the more traditional broiler category.

"Man, this heat is a nightmare, I would mind if it weren't so muggy." She said to Robert.

Robert rolled his eyes, "It's the way of life for this time of year, you know that. But I agree it can be a pain, the only thing that's really going to bite is June."

"No kidding, I know how bad it gets but when it gets coupled with that pollen, ugh!"

"What are you complaining about, Silver, your allergies never exactly bothered you."

"Yeah but that's only because I take allergy medicine, the downside of medication being it kind of makes you drunk to where you don't want to go anywhere, and if you try man, the drowsiness kills you."

"You gotta' lay off those drugs, Silver." Robert said with a bit of a chuckle, "self-medication is usually the road to addiction, and then from addiction to rehab, and from rehab to who knows where, but usually back to the pills man."

"Oh, shut it, Robbie!" she said, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Ah I'm just keeping it real, man."

Hope couldn't help but laugh now. It was Robert's gift of the group. He could always find a silver lining, but he never presented it as sunshine and rainbows. Heck no, the guy was far too serious even as a teen. But what was even funnier was his seriousness was offset by sarcasm. But Robert wasn't the wrong sarcastic type. Unlike a lot of people Hope and come to know with that talent, Robert's rendition of irony was to her, most refreshing. Because his irony was different, it was merely taking the blatantly obvious, but in such a statement of the obvious, he solidified and displayed the reason why he wouldn't do something.

As they both walked along, heading towards the more industrial district, Hope couldn't help but reflect on a book she had been reading in her spare time, Sinclair's _The Jungle. _It was if anything, a mystifying, harrowing read. It spoke of the state of things before the rise of the food inspector. Not even the rise of the food inspector but the realization of the need of one. However, she knew just as Robert and the remainder of their group did, that the very lack of standards which spurned the birth of the food inspector had very much degenerated. All the group knew that when it came to the making and production of some of their favorite foods, there was ultimate truth in the phrase, ignorance was bliss. Which is why by and large, Hope opted to purchase mostly kosher meat products unless it was chicken. But usually, she ate kosher far more than not as she appreciated that it wasn't likely she'd have mystery meat from such practice of preparation.

Neither Hope or Robert forgot the words of Ms. Rosenthal, "Those damned sausages and hot-dogs do you know what's in them? Everything but the got-danged squeal and that's just the pig meat that goes in."

For a long time, both thought the octogenarian to be a loony but, in all reality, but it wasn't so much they thought her to be a loon as they wished she was crazy. Neither of them was precisely ignorant about the contents of what they ate. That said, at least the food on this side of the door was food for all it wasn't precisely the stringent hierarchy that decided the cut or portion you received. Oh, they did remember that much living back at home on Legerdomain. Hope didn't have it near as bad as did some others as the efforts of her father and previous generations had accrued a bit of standing that transferred over due to hereditary clauses of legislation. Which translated directly that the higher one's position, the more exceptional cut of meat or more excellent quality food you received whereas one born of Robert's place was given that of the refuse, the lowest aspects of quality of any significant cut often substantiated by a supplement of turnips.

Hope as much as she may have wanted to say that she approved of the equality of food primarily for all, such a statement for her would not have been entirely accurate. Much as food was in abundance on this side of the door, which was by no means a thing of a complaint, Hope had sadly attained in her short time in Legerdomain, a sense of privilege and a taste for what she had come to know as the finer things in life. But now, she came to realize it was no different here, but the gaps in who had much and who had some and who had none were very well defined. In her heart of hearts, Hope yearned to be back at least in some regard of her old position. If she had to be honest with herself, it was for the many perks of immediate comfort it afforded her.

"_However, as I have seen both in myself and most people, consensus truly sees victory as how many cars you have. If not, how many academic degrees you have, how much money you may possess, how many people you may be related to by blood of prominence. At first glance alone, it is clear what many do consider victory. The vanities of this world, the treasures of this world and if not this, the praise of their fellow men and women resulting from the accruing of such aspects."_

The words of Itrion came back clear and so concisely Hope was jarred. She paused in her stride for just a moment, a flash of the man from the dream she was still attempting to rationalize. He stood there, his arms crossed his face in a barely perceptible smile, his eyebrows arched as if waiting to see something in particular. It was not precisely arrogance or cockiness, but it was just an odd sense of…knowing. Knowing. But what did that mean? Was this some form of test or what was it? Hope didn't know, and it indeed concerned her.

"_You know what it is, it's on the tip of your tongue deep in your heart, but you dare not address it."_ Came Itrion's voice in his head but even with his image in her head, his voice was knowing and very blatant.

Hope was now a touch more confused but now more slightly afraid, seeing if this would work, she thought, "How are you talking to me? How are you, a disembodied ghost still talking to me? You're a thing of a fever dream you are not real."

"_Oh, but I am very real. I was with you in the elevator, and I was with you in that dream. I am with you now. It just saddens me that this is the medium that I have to use to get your attention." _Replied Itrion's voice but all the same, Hope knew this was not Itrion.

"So, what are you then? You said you were with me in the elevator, but you know what you are? Just some damned conscience that at times I truly wish I were without."

"_Is that so?" _replied the voice, "_Is that truly what you feel?" _

"Yes, that's exactly how I feel!" Hope mentally burst out angrily.

"_You wish you had no conscience? Why?"_

"Because having a conscience is such a seemingly unnecessary burden! That's why! Oh, you shouldn't do this. Hope, you shouldn't do that, Hope, it's not right. You completely negate any pleasure I might have, that's why I want to be rid of you!"

"_Did you ever truly stop to consider that in all of your pride, that your conscience does, in fact, exist to protect you?"_

"Protect me, protect me from what?"

"_From yourself." _

"Really? That's the best you can come up with?"

The voice seemed to sigh in frustration, _"Think about it. You resent the aspect of the conscience I imparted to you. Why? Because as you said, you are denied your pleasures and fun. It's not meant to do that in the design of the conscience. It is designed to be a well from your experience to serve as reasoning as why __**not **__to do something no matter how pleasing it may seem at the time. To ignore such an element is to spit in the face of your own experience never-mind my instruction for the sake of a bit of temporary pleasure that hurts more than it comforts or is truly of worth later."_

"Oddly, you say, never mind my instruction. Why that particular phrasing?"

"_Because you simpleton, I sadly have to speak to you and people like you in an aspect that you can relate. Because you are very vain people and at times to make it personally applicable is the only way to get through to you." _

"Oh, and you are so very perfect, aren't you? Oh, sure you are!"

"_Do not confuse my will with that of an indoctrinated view of man, largely interpreted by man. I am not man neither are they me, as much as they wish to be." _

"Why do you not want people to lean on others, yet to love their fellow man for just who they are? You teach love, and yet you are amazingly stringent in your standards of what is allowed and not allowed. If it is true accepting of everyone as I hear it presented, then why do you not accept everyone?"

"_Why are standards called standards, Hope? I know the answer to the question you ask, but it is a very harsh answer that you are not ready for."_

"Oh, you think me unready…"

"_I __**know**__ you are unready!" _the voice was so loud and forceful it shook Hope internally, and she had to reassess herself.

"_What do you want?" _asked the voice, calmly, "_I know what you want, but I want to hear you say it."_

"If you truly know, then why not give it to me?" Hope asked.

"_Because I need to hear it from your own lips. Speak it into existence. I will not deny you what you want. I never have. Just be sure it is what you want." _

"Is this a trap?"

"_The fact you question is evident enough of what you think." _

A flash in Hope's mind was vibrant and clear to Hope's eyes and ears, "It's a hell of my own making, Alfred." "But you loved him; he knows that. It should be enough!" "It's not."

Hope was still. That thorn of anger burning inside her, but she felt she could ask, "Why are you showing me this?"

"_This is the last aspect of your oh-so-hated conscience, crying out to you. I have been loving and fair with you. Now, it's up to you. What do you want? Do you truly want my hand removed from you?" _

"Why use the Batman example? If you truly…"

"_Back to what I said, it saddens me that the only avenue I can reach you vain people is by what you deem relevant. Much akin to various other forms I have my hand in. But still you people are so blind, you will not see, and even if you do, you deny."_

Hope was still distraught but as was always the case, still trapped in her vanity and a desire to question, she wasn't entirely sold on this.

"_Okay think of it like this. You listen only to question. So think rather than question. Do you truly think in your heart of hearts that is easy for my people to live the upright and narrow way?"_

"In some ways, yes because your promise of heaven for eternity is the means to an end for many people."

"_Exactly it's a means to an end for such people who only desire the result without work. But it is their end, and that end is not true loyalty. Many see my way of life as a job or a title or some useless measure of man. So, if that is how you wish to use me, guess what, I'll put that suit and tie on you. But it won't benefit you. You mortal men and women __**cannot **__use me. But oh, you wish to. Oh, you so very much wish to. You know I speak peace, and I speak to use love, but guess what? My people are not chumps either."_

"But they force your ways, they force your doctrine, they do all these things and if it is truly as you say to be loving to each other, to be caring to each other, why do you allow this?"

"_Because, Hope, mankind has corrupted my message! The Earthly Christian is very much, VERY MUCH a combative sort but that is now how the Christian was meant to be. That forcing has come from indoctrination and oppressors of my faith who have twisted, contorted, and perverted so many elements. Guess what? You are not angry at me; you are angry at the oppressors who use my name as the mace as the trudgen. __**That is**__ who and what you hate."_

Hope paused for a moment. She was now thinking on a whole new avenue of thought. "So, wait a minute, you allow us to do as we do, because we choose to do it? You truly don't stop us?"

"_I never said that."_

"Huh?" she was now genuinely confused, "Wait, so you do stop us, but you allow us to make the choices that lead us to what we come to know?"

"_Well, you're close."_

"Can you please explain?"

"_Of course, I can. See, on all reality, your will and my will are intertwined. I know the outcome of your whole life before it even reaches the next day. It's the same with all my children. That said, the journey of life is for __**you. **__I know already all that there is to know. This whole process, the "human experience," is to learn, but also in learning you will come to lessons that are hard to swallow. Even those who yearn to follow me faithfully, they fall every day, just like you. But guess what, I selected them from the beginning to serve me, as I said I know your whole life before you even reach tomorrow. But all the same, they chose me. You have that choice before you now. __I saved you from hurt from damage to yourself because you are hot-headed and brash, and you don't know any better. You may think you do, but you just don't."_

"You say they fall every day. Why…."

"…_.if I am with them? Because in all reality, you need to learn complete reliance on me, as I can give you everything you ask for or you need. But you need to have __**faith **__that I can do so. You need to stop relying on yourself, on the machinations of your fellow humans. Because they all fall flat on their face. I know who is talking through you, you need to know it for yourself. Don't go off feeding into his bullshit, into his lies. STOP LISTENING TO HIM! All he has ever done from the very beginning is stand in opposition."_

"But he rebelled against you; he must have a…"

"_**His only reason was that he wanted MY glory for himself! That's the only reason!**__"_

Hope shook at the sheer feeling of being mentally jarred.

The voice was calmer now,_ "The only reason he wanted my glory, was because he wanted as you all humans do with free will, ultimate praise and adoration. He was given free will as were all my angels at the beginning. He came down to you, and he tempted you with knowledge of good and evil to know as I know to see as he sees. He WANTS you to fall. Because he was one of my first creations, he was one of my greatest servants. He was one of my sons. But because he thought he could rise against the being who created him. And do better than his father and creator, he rebelled. He wanted that power for himself he wanted more than the power though, as I said, he wanted above all, the glory and the praise that went with sitting on my throne. He is the usurper. But because he could not defeat me, he turned my own servants against me, and so I gave them a choice, stay or leave. They chose to follow that blind fool. And so, he wanted power…he wanted a domain; I gave it to him. It's called Sin and all the hells that go with it." _

"You say he is your son…then is…."

"_Yes, the answer you're looking for is yes. Jesus is his brother no different than Able was to Cain."_

"But Cain killed Able."

"_Once again, you miss the point. Cain, when questioned cries out, "What am I my brother's keeper?" Yes, Cain, you are your brother's keeper. Many of the mainstream Christians and many of your fellow esoterics do not wish to acknowledge what I have said, but honestly what they accept is immensely immaterial. Yes, Satan, Lucifer…same thing. He is Jesus's brother. Look at the dynamic in everyday life. A family of mother, father, and three children sit at a table. Two of the children, the younger ones, can watch TV while the elder is told to clear away the dishes. Yes, the elder sibling is, in fact, the keeper of the younger because you are older you have seen more, you are therefore because of such elements, more responsible for them!" _

"And so…"

"_Yes. Lucifer was my son. He rebelled against me and sought to overthrow me. A fruitless endeavor but from that, he proved himself. He had it all but wanted more. Cain did not have it all, but I said to him to persevere and to do better next time. Cain, out of jealousy of my favor and my love of his brother killed his brother. But why? Because Cain screwed me on his offering up to me. He gave me the inferior and Able gave me the very best. The very fattest and finest of his flock but did so __**gladly. **__And all the while, this greedy man's heart festered and burned with hate. But he didn't want to do as I asked him to do, which was to give the best and the first fruits. Did he have too? No. But he felt guilty if he offered nothing, but what does he offer? Refuse for the burn pile. A very inferior offering. His brother's offer given of his love and heart, his firstborn of the flock with abundant fat portions for me because he __**loved **__me. Now, which did you think I would truly find favor with?"_

"Okay, so wait, help me figure something out. The main teachers of your church what you are presenting is just not accurate."

"_Why? Because it doesn't fit their narrative of what they want to believe. What you __**want**__ to believe and what __**is, **__is vastly different. For example, these proud people say oh this is this, and this is that. But they cannot accept some straight-forward elements in the scriptures themselves. Take my loved servant Enoch for example. I personally loved him so much because of his faith that I never let him see death. I took him into the heavens and instructed him how to write, speak, and I showed him all that there was to see here. And now these proud and arrogant men do not wish to include Enoch's testimony that I allowed him to see as canon. Why? If I say something is good enough you better damn well believe it's good enough. But no, it's not for these men and women. Because guess what, Hope, Enoch is shown what the cost of sin is and who oversees everything and who I appointed. But the reason they don't allow the Book of Enoch is because they know it would scare people shitless and they __**should **__be scared." _

Hope was quiet for a moment, just soaking this in at present. A lot of it was genuinely making sense, but there was so much she couldn't make sense of.

"_It's okay. You must understand so much of this is a process. What you further need to understand is mankind, and our enemy through mankind will try and fill your head will all kinds of nonsense and present some new radical idea as just what it sounds like. However, this is not the case. Because go far enough back and you'll find it has its roots in this movement derived from this man, it's a never-ending cycle."_

"So, are we kind of in an unending loop then?"

"_Good girl. Yes, mankind is. But it's not as oppressive as it sounds. Rather it is a stage by which the elders of a nation or people bestow knowledge to the younger generation. However, just because something is presented and told, doesn't mean they will always listen because this is the point. It is for you as humans to learn and to try and understand things that the elders have said. The history is there, but it is not true history is written by the victors. History has all manner of views and voices victor, oppressor, bystander, etc. But if you do not look at history and truly seek to understand it and why events happened, you will be doomed to the same errors over and over and over again. It's on __**you. **__Not on me, on __**you." **_

Hope nodded, and she now flashed back into the present where she saw Robert ordering a couple of tacos from a vendor. She looked at her watch, and she saw only four minutes had passed. Hope was a bit jarred at this, but then she just shrugged it off but no less, the words stuck with her. Robert and Hope headed down towards a new venue that was under construction.

At that moment, Hope's phone buzzed, and she looked at it. It was Hex, "Come home. You and I have work to do." She closed her cellphone, and she excused herself from Robert and proceeded to head home.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: The next chapter read review and enjoy. I own nothing of Ben 10 or **_**Across the Door **_**from which some of my material is derived. Ben 10 belongs to Man of Action and **_**Across the Door **_**to Christopher Diaz, JR.**

Chapter 6

Hope arrived home, and she knew that the feeling was different. It wasn't out of anger or tension or anything particularly harmful. But in general, her home had a sense of an overall relaxing element. Suffice to say; this was just not the case. Not that anything had taken its place, but more accurately, that feeling just was gone. She entered and listened and heard a rummaging sound near Hex's study. Hope was a bit apprehensive but approached his door. She knocked, and Hex opened the door.

"I'm glad you're prompt." He said as he allowed her entry.

It was different, the layout of his study. Usually, it was in the regard of ordered, almost obsessively so as papers and books were often ideally kept but gone were the books, gone were the papers. Hope noticed many of his bookshelves had been cleared away and, in their place, various articles that she frankly did not understand. One of them was a monkey's paw clutching a black, seemingly glass sphere. Another was a statue of Shiva, but the arms were slightly out of the original traditional placement. There were a few sets of weapons on mounts, and these ranged in scope and scale from swords seemingly of the Wakizashi aspect to a great, fabulously ornate pole-ax on the far left wall.

"What exactly is going on here, Uncle?" Hope asked, taking this change in as best she could.

"I know what burns within you, I wanted to keep select elements from you for as long as I could, but I knew in time, we'd have to cross this bridge." He took a sip of tea and set it back down, "I had to consider how things had begun to change for you, Hope. I knew with the revelation, or I suppose confirmation of what happened to your father, that you would have the fire ignited within you. The fire burned more and more, but when you revealed to me that you wanted to murder this Paul fellow, I knew I had to do something about it."

Hex turned his back and headed towards the far shelf towards a black casing. He waved his hand over the box and whispered some words that to Hope could only be described as inaudible. The box snapped, and a deep drone as that of a chorus was heard, and this sound turned into a more pronounced sonic hum that in time began to reverberate. This hum continued for the better part of two minutes and then finally the case opened, and a lavender book with gold trim and emblazed badge arose from within. Taking the book, Hex turned back to his niece and stood before her a moment. Hope could tell he was buried in contemplation and then he spoke.

"This book, this grimoire, is yours. It is a book derived from elementary principles that every few pages will add to said principles gradually progressing you until you reach Apprentice. It contains all manner of direct spells, recipes for potions, and skills by which you can master to mix and match techniques as you learn them in combat to be a versatile warrior."

Hope took this book, and from it, she began to look over the book and what it entailed. Some of it made sense in general terms, but a lot of it was a mystery, "What do these things mean? I don't understand."

"That is because you are young and not begun training. This form of study will take time, and I will teach you the fundamentals until you have shown mastery. After such time, you will demonstrate what you have _truly _mastered. From this, we can better gauge your progress and what needs refinement along the way. But we will start very simple. In the back is an appendix or more accurately a glossary of raw ingredients needed for your potions and more complex spells and where you can attain the ingredients."

Hope looked at the glossary and found all manner of ingredients from all manner of animals but also some with stars next to them to signify the crucialness of the component or if it had two stars both importance and expense. It was very well laid out and straightforward. She was in a way, very excited about this new avenue of experience, and it was evident to Hex in her eyes. However, as she observed the ingredients, she then had a question occur to her.

"Uncle, what _is _magic? I see a lot of it of what you represent and really what is it? Because it appears to me to be no more than a glorified chemistry function."

"Your insight serves you very well," Hex said with a smile, "yes, it is just that. A powerful albeit arcane and vastly understated form of science. Magic is in all reality; a means to guarantee a calling upon of power. The power granted to us by covenant by the various masters of the world."

"Masters of the world? What do you mean?"

"I want you to consider something, that you know nothing unless taught something. It is the same with our people in terms of "magic." Magic is in all reality a taught art-form. Taught to us by greater powers above us, wiser and assuredly of more practical experience."

"And so magic is just another avenue, are there others?"

"Oh, yes, there are many others. But you are not ready for those yet. Right now, let us work with you on mastering the fundamentals."

Hope nodded, and she looked over some of the spells, and as she looked at various required elements, she grew a bit concerned, "A lot of these ingredients are expensive."

"Of course, that is why over time, I have built up a small reserve to use to master the basics. And from that, you will learn the effects of various ingredients in response to various combinations. However, after this reserve is spent, you are on your own to get more."

"I understand." She replied.

"No, you don't. But you will." Hex replied with a gentle smile.

Hope was now a bit more wary, "Uh…what…"

"No matter." Hex replied, "You will learn. Trust me; this is the point of learning. To surrender that you know nothing, and you must learn from one more learned than yourself. Now, Hope, you have a choice. There are many weapons before you. Dedicate yourself to mastery of one of them, and you will be very well prepared for what there is out there."

Hope looked around the shelves which held various weapons, and she asked, "Which can kill quicker?"

"Define quicker." Hex replied in turn.

"Quicker as which can cause the most damage, the fastest?"

"Any of them with the proper training and dedication to said training." Hex replied as he sat down.

"Which would you choose?"

"We are not talking about me, Hope. Which do _you _want to wield?"

"I…I don't know." She replied finally.

"And that's fine, and we'll come to that later." Hex said with a smile.

Hope thought a minute and said, "Can I have a guide to the weapons so that I can make a more informed decision?"

Hex's eyes raised, "Sure." He gave her a guide, _The Esoteric Compendium of Defense and Attack. _"Here you go. Take your time in your selection as it will be final until it proves too cumbersome or you don't like it for a legitimate reason."

Taking the book, she put it in her room. As she left for a moment, Hex thought, "_A brilliant girl. Contemplative not restricted by vanity or what seems to be more flamboyant. Practical. Yes, she'll go far."_

Hope returned, and Hex was now sitting in a chair as he looked at his clock. The timing was just right. Hex was thinking of the element Hope's school would be out soon to where she could fully embrace what she needed to learn. The basics of it were straightforward enough. But he had to anticipate in her, as he had to learn the hard way the passion of want to innovate. But he would teach her this with time, there was still plenty of time to do what was needed, and even with rudimentary skills learned, she'd still be a very viable foe to practically anyone. But not yet, he had to wait until she could provide undivided attention.

Hex looked at her, "That is all for right now. However, don't make plans over the summer vacation. Because that vacation we are going to use to teach you the foundations of what you want to know and what you must know conjointly."

Hope nodded and then as she turned to go, she stopped, "Why are we doing this, Uncle?"

He replied, "To take back our homeland. To free it from the tyranny that forced us and so many others out. But before we are can do that, you must be prepared with select skills and expand on those skills. That is why we are doing this."

"So, vengeance as nothing to do with it?"

"I'd be lying if that wasn't a portion of the stew. But I like to look at the long-term benefit for the greater portion of those who similarly suffered as opposed to the temporary personal benefit."

Hope smiled to herself, "_A Machiavellian if ever I heard one." _she thought. 

"It is, indeed, what just that." Hex replied.

Hope gasped and whirled around, her eyes wide.

Hex smiled, "You are in my library, my domain. I can hear all that you think. But your views of me are not unfounded, as you state the obvious of what you see. However, you need to remember why we fight the oppressor. It is to rightly avenge those who died: your mother, your father, and countless others. I know you think it's all simple and clean-cut. Sometimes. But also, that is not the case. In time, you will come to see the world through genuinely realistic eyes. And so, when the time comes, you will be able to judge me for what I do. However, do not be so hasty to do so without looking at yourself.

You think revenge is wrong. Sure, you have a right to that, but you come with it from the wrong place. Because you didn't think that revenge was so crazy when you wanted to kill Paul for killing your little friend, did you? No, you didn't. Luckily, some force intervened that but before you judge me, look at yourself first."

"_Let it go." _Came the familiar voice, "_let it go. He is somewhat upset, turn now, and go on."_

Hope listened again and thought, "_How are you able to…"_

"_Please. Do you think this small man with all his perceived knowledge can stop me?" _

Hope nodded, and she left to her room and closed the door, "_How are you doing this?" _Hope asked.

"_Because I can, I love you, and I will continue to do so." _

Hope was quiet as she contemplated this. This declaration of this form of love. She had to think about it as it was still very new to her. This being who said he loved her and would continue to do so. The very concept was beyond foreign because, in the mind of this youthful woman, she did not inherently believe that this love was genuinely free.

"_Why can it not be truly free?" _came the voice.

Hope thought for a moment, "Because I don't trust anything free. Everything has its cost."

"_This is true. However, long-term vs. short-term, what do you see?'_

"I-I don't know. I never stopped to think about it." Hope replied.

The voice was now quiet, and Hope was not alone, but she felt somewhat like it.

"_I come to many when they are young to show them that I am indeed there. However, as is natural, they depart from me for a time."_

"Why do they depart from you?" Hope asked.

"_Because of choice." _was the reply.

"Because they can?" Hope asked genuinely curious.

"_Exactly, Hope." _

"Why would they choose this?"

"_You didn't want to listen to me in the elevator, and the principle is exactly that." _

"But you saved me from my folly." Hope retorted.

"_I didn't have to though." _

The very weight of this statement bore down upon Hope like a crushing weight. It's true; he didn't have to. Alternatively, instead of striking her with an illness, she could have been in a whole mess of trouble. Why didn't it though?

"_Because of love, Hope. Because of love." _Was His reply.

Hope was silent for a good while and then she looked at the book Hex had given her, and she poured over its pages. All manner of weaponry was detailed inside as well as means by which to use said weapons. All style of variety intrigued her from the sword and kite-shield to the traditional long-sword to the standard bastard sword. Hope also entertained the idea of various other weapons from the conventional katana to maybe something smaller and more streamlined as the wakizashi. However, in hindsight, she knew she didn't like getting deep into combat. For her, the range was vital. Keeping that distance was vital. If she had to, she'd have some disciplines mastered by which to keep her more supported in ranged combat.

Hope also looked at various aspects from the book that were titled under Miscellaneous Tools. She found several things that interested her but what began to pique her interest earnestly was the application of animation of wood and stone. As she read into the various disciplines of how to attain these effects, she wrote down the key phrases and terms by which the means to meet the desired result was attainable into a small personal notepad. Utilizing the book that Hex had given her, Hope went to the glossary to look up some of what these words were. There were several of them, but not all of them broken down phonetically and with instructions as to how to put the words into effect. Finding in further reading a common link called the Mental Key, she considered various aspects and elements. The desired effect being a very palpable one. The one of silent spoken words coming into existence.

As Hope pondered these things, a thought came to her, "_How can words be silent and heard? Is it the same as what Uncle has in terms of his study? I think however with him it's more reception than broadcast." _She continued to think, "_Furthermore, let's consider the elements of which I'm looking at here. These stone creatures of various forms have a select physical action but require no words…it serves to a logical conclusion therefore that the creatures are animated by the physical action but only functioning as a result of directly endued properties of magic."_

Hope wrote down these thoughts, and she put them away for later and then began looking at the ingredients list in the back of her book. As this happened, she thought more on Hex's words that he had a reserve for her, but after it was used up, she'd be on her own. This statement was, just as Hope knew it was, a warning to prepare. Sitting down, she started to make notes as to the shared ingredients between potions and more complex spells. Making further note of the desired effects from the glossary of ingredients, she found the key factors as to what had an exact effect, minimal effect, common effect, and extremes.

However, as she continued to research various elements, she found a system of what she would later come to call "umbrellas" which while they were of a broadly expanded purpose, they had to be more precisely rationed, prepared, and combined. This dedication helped to attain the desired effect. The reason she found this to be extremely viable was that there were some aspects where precision was needed, but at the same time, those specific elements, she may need were not exactly available. To make do with what one had available to her was paramount. Hope also realized that many of the umbrellas were available in legitimately prime stock of specific kinds of the raw ingredient. But the umbrellas because of this exclusivity seemed to be a no brainer, but as she continued to study and research, just because they were exclusive on the surface, it didn't mean that the components were not prohibitively challenging to isolate and mix.

As Hope studied and combined the applications of what she had learned, she concluded that this was not just a cooking class, but a cooking class blended with intermediate to advanced chemistry in various levels. She thought a moment, "_Am I truly just learning pharmacology?" _Something in her gut instinct told her that on some level, she was correct but still not exactly accurate. Nevertheless, Hope had what she needed for the moment. She had a list of standard raw materials to collect, and she also had the more elegant aspects of gathering for blanket precision results. But Hope knew that to isolate the compounds from the conventional sources would require more experience than what she possessed. But she did know of one who could very quickly help her. Heading to the phone, Hope picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

"_Hello?"_

"Hello, Rachel, can we meet to talk for a minute? I could use your help."

"_What with, why, and where?"_

"Isolation of compounds from raw materials. For precision potion and moderate-level spell-making using umbrella components. Your place that would best benefit us." Hope replied.

"_Eh, sure. I 've not much else to do. Get your materials and meet me out back in my dad's old utility shed. When you have what you need, send me a list of what you have and what result you want, and I'll get some stuff together to help guarantee the effect. Give me a text as soon as you have what you need so I can get ready. Also, if you're going to do this, do this right. Go to Breckenmyer's Market off Trent and Grove St. They should have all that you need." _

"Will do, thank you for your time," Hope replied.

"_Not a problem. See you soon, Silver."_

Hope hung up the receiver, and she went to go see Hex in his study, "Uncle, I'm going out to get some things for our classes when you choose to begin the lessons. I'll be gone for probably four hours."

Hex looked at her with a mild bit of surprise, "Go right ahead, then. Take your time, and don't rush."

Hope nodded, and she went to her room first. She opened a small compartment in the headboard of her bed and took out four hundred dollars. It was the entire emergency cache Hope saved for what was, her thrills. Putting this money in her wallet and then in her coat, she headed out. The money was in denominations of twenty and ten to not alarm anyone. A fifteen-year-old with that kind of money would frighten someone, and she knew that as a definite for a mid-size city like hers.

Hope headed out now in what was the mid-afternoon down to Breckenmyer's Market. It was a place in a respectable mid-portion of town. The market was sandwiched in-between the wealthier family and entertainment district and the impoverished. Despite how it sounded to most outsiders, Hope knew the reality as did most people around her; there was no middle-class. That aspect of the American Dream died a long time ago. There were simply those who had much or those who had little and at the worst those who had none, and there was no middle ground. Breckenmyer's itself was a beautiful open-air market, and it was always a wonderful smelling place. Fresh fruits in one area, fresh cuts of fish from the harbor, the fresh vegetable produce from a blend of rural farms out to the northwest and more local aspects of lesser things people brought from their gardens for a small profit, it was all here.

Hope checked her list against what she needed from the more exceptional elements to the base goods. Going from stall to stall, she surveyed and made a note of who had what so that when she came through for her second pass, she could go vendor to vendor get what she needed, and on her way. The vendors had everything that she needed on her list: Lobster, Oysters, Sea Urchin Eggs, ripe tomatoes, fresh-caught tuna, deer and elk heart, turkey gullets, chicken livers and gizzard, pickled pig's feet, fresh pineapple, and several batches of clove. Once her shopping was done, Hope sent Rachel the text as to what she was bringing and the desired effects. As she began to head towards Rachel's Hope was thinking that all in all, it was not a bad haul for what she needed. The local markets were so much better than commercial. The economic incentive especially applied to Elgram's. The local vendors were often so dirt-cheap that people would go to them for produce because Elgram's truly put the squeeze on a lot of their customers. The squeeze for what she knew and many knew over-priced shit that they could go to the Amish and get and odds of a ten to one of a better deal and assuredly better quality.

Hope got the text from Rachel that she was ready and so Hope continued at her pace albeit quicker for the sake of courtesy. As she reached Rachel's house, she loved how it was. It was genuinely middle-class or rather the bones that comprised of that proud distinction. It was a beautiful two story with a basement. Hope went around back to the utility shed. It was a nice space, but it was mostly empty now as Rachel's father made a larger shed to house his riding mower, meter hand, and a few other aspects for yard work and his love of just working with his hands. The former utility shed was converted into the family lab. The lab was used only as Hope was now going to use it to isolate components from ingredients of raw materials. Hope knocked on the door, and Rachel peered through the top slit and unlocked the door.

Rachel was a young woman, a Wiccan by her profession; however, Hope knew she was a bit more than she let on. Rachel stood about 5'5 and was not stocky, but she was robust to the say the least. Her frame was built for soccer, and many noted this including her father, Patrice who sponsored the sport and had a spot on the faculty as the shop instructor. So, Rachel's place was a shoo-in more or less. As Hope, herself knew, just another example of nepotism and further it was never so much what you knew or what you had but who you knew and their connection to get what you desired. Despite this frame, she was rather cute in Hope's eyes. Blonde hair cut in the pixie fashion and she had remarkable teeth but not so perfect they were glaringly fake. It had the off-white that many did believe was the respectable aspect because those who bleached or whitened their teeth were very evident. Rachel also had the most captivating blue-green eyes that had different flairs of either or given the intensity of light.

Hope entered the shed and saw there were several modest upgrades to the lab set up. A broiler several Bunsen burners, a scale in addition to the usual elements of a wood-burning stove, and a little device Rachel herself made called the Steeper. The Steeper was a device that worked much like to the old-school vacuum-pot coffee makers that the seniors of the town seemed to like. Hope knew why they loved them because hands down, they made the very best coffee when properly used.

Hope set the bag of ingredients down on a table and Rachel came to inspect the supplies. Hope knew how finicky Rachel was. It wasn't that she was anal-retentive but as any person and indeed, Hope herself, Rachel saw this kind of thing as her art. It was her passion. She knew the ins and outs of the process learning from her father, who had learned from his father, going back to the time of the crusades. As with every generation they attempt to improve on the original formula with varying degrees of success. Rachel was no exception. However, rather than adulterate the original method, she endeavored to improve the overall extraction process of desired materials. In this degree, she performed extraordinarily well. But to achieve this standard of perfected extraction, the ingredients had to be perfectly prepared to incorporate into Rachel's format.

While the inspection of her ingredients underway, Hope was reflecting more on the aspect of enduing various elements such as arcane creatures with supernatural features. To her, it was no different than having charms endued against an overall probability factor to ensure a different result, much as she'd seen her friend Chris do at times and rig the reels on a couple of slot machines time and again. But still, much like a few other things, she couldn't help but think there was a bit more to the explanation.

"Done." Rachel said after she had checked various elements of the ingredients, 'An excellent stock, very fine indeed."

Hope smiled, "Thanks, I worked in the overarching practical scenarios as well as effects from a glossary I had and I figured if I can get ingredients with portions of multiple compounds from one source, why not use them?"

"No, it's a good idea, but sometimes it's just better to get the exact effect ingredients. Trust me; it's usually easier to not cut corners." Rachel replied as she headed over to a cabinet.

"But how do you get stuff if you don't exactly have it readily available?" Hope asked.

"Simple it's called saving and being frugal, gradually building a stockpile. Now your stockpile will have to be used sure, but if you dry the articles out or put them in deep-freeze, one of the two-you generally end up prepared. It's placing priority over want, simple as that." Rachel replied as she took out several containers.

"I'm sorry if this inconveniences you," Hope said a bit abashed she felt she was wasting Rachel's time.

"Silver, there's nothing to be ashamed of. You just didn't know. It's a lot like going out to a job for let's say construction. You get a toolbox and a set to start with, but as you gain experience in time, the tools show their use or clutter in terms of applications to what you're doing. Not that you should discard the clutter as it can be valuable as every tool has value. But as you work more in the familiarity with your craft, you will find the tools you use regularly. And sometimes lessons are just costly, kinda the way of life."

Rachel, after this explanation, brought out a cutting board. She reached into the bottles she had taken from the cupboard, and from them selected choice dried sprigs of spices and mint which had a pungent smell of sage, basil, peppermint, lavender, lilac, honeysuckle, lemon-mint, and spearmint. Rachel laid these on the board in different areas. Using a sterilized pocketknife, Rachel cut them into sections from the sizeable stalks and continued to mince them very finely. Rachel proceeded to round them out into their areas and once done kept only dashes of the original cuts and put the rest into mid-sized glass vials which she corked. Placing custom labels on the bottles, Rachel set these aside.

Rachel looked at Hope and gestured over to her dad's grill, and fryer vat combination and Hope followed. Rachel started to fire up the grill by use of propane instead of using her father's preferred method of charcoal. It kept the purity primarily in the avenue of what she desired. Rachel also looked at the nearby firepit, and as she inspected the rack over the copper deep basin she used, she went and attached a catch bowl underneath.

Hope looked at all of this with a sense of wonder and then asked, "Um, mind telling me, what exactly is going on?"

Rachel nodded, "Sure. Now what I'm going to tell you is very simple in premise, very basic. See, a lot of professed witches or Wiccans or whatever name you want to use, as it is truly the same thing-they largely need the direct oils from animals to make their spells effective before surrendering to ritual rites. So, what we are going to do is cook and fry up your selections for the direct oils. Now they can say whatever they want to say, those who profess to know what Wiccan or Occult do, but all the blood-sacrifice and all that shit, yes it has the power to invoke the rite, and thusly is the effect they desire. But it's much like the old ways, the burning of the fat is a scent pleasing not only to the Master but also to the agents of Karsook or in normal tongue Lucifer and his agents."

"Then why not just cut the fat and store it?" Hope asked as she watched Rachel go into her house for a moment.

Rachel reappeared with a glass jar of olive oil, "Because burning fat is a faster way for a faster result but who wants to haul around ass-loads of fat all day? Not me, I tell you that. So, what we will do is fry the food to get direct runoff, the grease which comes from the fat. This method is just as viable as grease is just the oil of the fat. In a way, it is a purer element than just burning the fat outright and has a more impactful aspect and use. People could do it this way regularly, but people are lazy and so burn the fat directly."

Rachel poured the oil into the fryer and using a brush she coated the rack of the fire-pit with it. Once done, Rachel took the Tuna fillets and threw them on the fire-pit shelf. Going to a nearby spigot, she turned on the water and washed her hands with soap. Returning to the collection of Hope's resources, she took the deer and Elk hearts and drained the blood into two bowls which would slowly funnel into a tube leading into five vials. Rachel then put the deer and elk heart on the opposite side of the fire-pit rack from the tuna. Fixing a spigot on the respective sides of the pot and placing a metal divider for each side, she struck a match lighting the fire-pit.

Giving Hope a spatula. Rachel said, "Every minute you flip the filet for three minutes after it starts to sear and juices begin to bubble."

Hope obeyed and performed this process as Rachel performed this same process on the bled deer and elk hearts. Hope could see the effects that as the grease began to drip into the pot, it had a beautiful smell, and she saw the oil and juices of the hearts drip into their portion of the basin. This process once done, Rachel began to carve the hearts and the salmon steak. Placing the chunks and shred into a Tupperware bowl, she began to drain the grease from the pot out of their respective spigots. The grease Rachel poured into similar vials as she did with the assorted spices and mints. The grease-filled blood from the hearts, she placed into a larger bottle of notably thicker glass. Taking these vials, Rachel set them into a holder for them. With two maintenance tongs, Rachel removed the scorching hot rack above the pot and dropped into a basin of water nearby. The hiss was very well noted as the smell of the fish and hearts punctuated the air.

Rachel took the copper pot above the pit and placed in upon a concrete block nearby which was formerly part of a porch. Once done, Rachel went back inside to get a larger copper pot and a new rack. Hope filled the pot to the last quarter portion with water and set it on the new rack to start boiling. This done, she put the lobsters into the pot while pouring olive oil upon the lobsters. After affixing a similar spigot to this basin, Rachel went to her father's fryer and seeing how the oil within had begun to sit, she poured a touch of water within and proceeded to pour Hope's oysters into the fryer.  
As she turned on the heat, Rachel sat on a stump and motioned for Hope to do the same.

Hope sat down a bit amazed at the sophistication of all of this, "Why do you utilize the olive oil so much if the purity of the fat is key?"

Rachel took out a cigarette and lit it and took a puff or two, "It's simple, that's not ordinary olive-oil. We order the olives from Israel and we hand-press them for the oil here at home. Therefore, you have a pure-well, almost entirely unadulterated product. The reason for it also is to give additional lubrication to the pots, so nothing sticks and gets burned. Further, the oil helps to encourage a faster letting out of the grease, and it enriches the body of the grease, which is why I keep the oils separate when cooking. Finally, potion making or at least extracting a lot of things in this fashion, allows us to have a meal when all is said and done truly."

Hope nodded as she took all of this in and was taking into account of all of the steps involved, but she decided to be bold and ask, "Rachel, is there a way we can set it up to have this stuff done as s regular thing?"

Rachel looked at her, "Sure, for a while. But after a while, no more. Because you will have to learn through observation and if you have direct questions, then ask. If not, watch as I do and follow what I do. However, if you have questions, ask because if you don't get something right much like in more human-chemistry, the tiniest mistake or too much or too little can result in nothing or blow up a block."

"That's a bit hyperbolic, isn't it?" Hope asked.

"No. No, not at all. See unlike more sophisticated and clean methods as is attainable by most scientists in the world, and we do not have such luxuries. The only way by which we can truly do this is to have farm-raised aspects for our purposes. That's why I sent you to the market because they are the freshest providers in the area, hands down."

Rachel got up and checked the oysters, and she went to her shed and took out a small sand timer and set it. Rachel then checked the lobsters, and she found they were nearly ready. As Rachel back down for a short moment, Hope could see Rachel was a good bit tired. This was indeed a lot of work, but it was also a very muggy day more than hot.

Soon Hope heard a young voice from the house, "Hey Rachel! Mom said when you finished to clean up the stuff you know how daddy gets!" Hope looked and saw a young boy from the upper story.

"I hear you and tell Mom we're going to need to press some more olives for oil!" Rachel yelled back, "Hey, Jimmy, go turn on the AC and bring me a cold bottle of water!"

Jimmy gave a mischievous smile and darted off. Soon the whir of the AC could be heard, and Jimmy came out with two bottles of water, "One for you and one for your girlfriend."

Rachel looked as if she were going to kill Jimmy and said, "Shut your damn mouth!"

"Oh, you don't shut yours." Jimmy said with a bit of a smile, "Ooh, Hope, go deeper." He imitated his sister, and she swept his feet and slammed her heel into his chest.

The boy yelled out, "What can't take a joke? Damn girl!" He gasped for air and Rachel held him up with one hand.

"Never, are you to say that again." She snarled between clenched teeth, "Never, do you understand?"

The boy gave a painful smile, "Sure, sis. Sure."

Rachel dropped him, and he went back inside, and he clutched his chest, "Oh, wow!"

Rachel turned back to Hope, "I'm so sorry about that, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

Hope nodded a bit, "Yes, he does. What reason would he have to make up such an element?"

Rachel paused a moment, "I'm sorry."

"Why? Because you're a lesbian? Or are you sorry more accurately that I found I am the object of your affections?" Hope asked.

"It's not exactly what you think," Rachel replied.

"You have no idea what I think." Hope retorted.

"So how do you see it?" Rachel asked her somewhat wary of the answer.

"I accept you are who you are. You have your tastes, but who am I to disagree with your tastes? Do I like that I am the object of such affection on some level yes, on some level no. I am flattered you consider me in such a light, but I don't swing that way. And the timers are done."

Rachel accepted this to diffuse the situation, and she headed out to get the lobsters and oysters. Once these were drained, the oils were once again drained into vials. The oysters and lobsters now were put on a tray, and both young women headed inside.

Rachel's house was a lovely home. The floors of a rich, warm wood almost cherry Hope wanted to say. The rooms were of a more crème color white than that of the harsh white of most homes that she had come to know, her apartment included. The sharp white that made you feel you were in a permanent snowstorm. It hurt the eyes and gave a headache often. It was if anything, a nice change to come into Rachel's house, it was warmer in tone and more possessive of a personality. The walls were adorned with various aspects of paintings or if not massive and elegant mirrors. The mirrors were a unique thing as they seemed to be everywhere. The pictures were of all manner of types as there were watercolors, pastels, and a few choice original posters from back in the day of 1930s matinee theater.

Hope loved the house it always smelled of a luscious minty smell with a touch of lavender. It was by any accounts to the beholder, a home with a woman's touch. It was ordered, neat, very suitable for presentation as Hope believed that Rachel's mother, Amelia, lived for performance. If not of her home, of her impressive skills in the housing markets. Hope knew that it was very much Amelia's skill as she could make even the most decrepit house the dwelling place of the utmost affluent individual.

As Hope sat down, Rachel warmed up the fish and heart meat in a bowl in the microwave while she put a kettle on to boil. Rachel then brought out two Tupperware bowls with lids, and she took out a box of minute rice and ramen noodles, and as Hex did, Hope observed her break up the ramen, followed by sprinkling a specially made dark pepper and salt combination on top.

Hope asked as the thought occurred, "What about the rest of the stuff?"

"No worries, I put them in the industrial cooler underneath dad's lab-table. They will be perfectly fine." Rachel replied as she cut up some muenster cheese slices from a block she'd kept in the fridge, "Trust me, Hope, I've done this for a long time."

Hope nodded, and she asked, "So, Rachel, what are the elements of the vacuum pot of which you're so proud of?"

"Well, it's a long story but suffice to say, you know how grandma and grandpa always had elements that they loved of Earth but never did care to embrace wholly on the other side of the door? Well, the vacuum pot is my answer to that. But more accurately it is for precision-bulk potion manufacturing. See, if we have someone who comes up and wants a whole big batch made, well we'll make it, and the vacuum pot is our guarantee that we will have much like coffee, a primely smooth encounter, and taste and texture. If the proper ingredients in the proper amounts are there, we can make a batch large enough to supply an apothecary for two months."

"I see for it's for precision mass quantity, the quality pending who supplies you with the necessary ingredients?"

"Yes, exactly," Rachel replied, "and sometimes we'll provide a portion of said ingredients for a cut of the sale of the potion to others who may need it, typically five percent of the total sales which pending the difficulty of mixture and cost of ingredients, it can be pretty sizeable."

"How much would it cost for the use of the vacuum pot?" Hope asked as she smelled the fish and hearts being sufficiently warmed by the radiation of the microwave.

"Well, see what you are doing with me right now, would cost about three hundred dollars just so far. There are still the pickled pig's feet, which we must account for which alone would be two hundred as they are more cumbersome to break down pending what was used as the brine for pickling. Then there are the livers and gizzards from the chicken, which is twenty dollars per half dozen, again to filter out the impurities if there are any."

"I see," Hope was now apprehensive, "uh-what about today's costs?"

"No worries, this is part of the lessons so you can do it yourself. That way, you can charge others to do it for them. Which is why I said I would only help you a limited number of times for free.

The small ding on the microwave sounded, and Rachel took out the bowl from the microwave with oven-mitts and scooped a portion in for herself and one for hope and mixed them. The kettle began to scream, and Rachel took it off the burner, pouring in just enough for both bowls, and snapping the lids on them.

Rachel took a nearby remote and turned on the TV, "Go ahead, watch some TV. I have to clean up what we've done so far."

Hope nodded and she went into the living-room up front while Rachel headed out. As Rachel was outside, Hope watched through the window at the process. Rachel applied a right amount of water to the pans. And then she poured bleach into each container which had grease. She set her watch as Hope knew her custom, and she turned to head inside after locking up the shed. Hope went back to the living room and sat down, and she found something a documentary on the French Revolution from the History Channel. As Rachel came back in, she programmed the DVR to record the special for later viewing.

As they sat the brief few minutes letting their food prepare, Hope was genuinely thinking about all manner of things that she could use for a weapon she knew what she wanted, range but also be ready if the enemy were to close the gap. She thought about all manner of variables from swords to use of an adapted firearm which of course, she realized she'd need some degree of training in. There was all manner of means of weapons she could use. Hope looked outside, and it was getting towards mid-afternoon. It was not quite nearing sunset but just a couple of more hours, and it would be nearing sunset.

"How good is each vial for?" Hope asked as she was looking out the window.

Rachel looked at her and replied, "The vials I am preparing to give you are four-liquid-ounce bottles. If you had more of the raw materials, you would have gotten five-ounce bottles. For every four-ounce bottle, there is are thirty-two drams which are the standard applications for most potions and spell preparations. At most, you'd need two drams of what we have extracted so far. Now, this would vary bearing in mind what you have already at your disposal but too much or too little and it won't work, or things could easily go haywire."

Hope nodded signifying, she understood. All in all, this was not a bad haul considering all that went into the process. Tedious sure, but there was a lot of reliable results. At that moment Hope's phone began to hum. She took it out and saw it was a message from Hex that he would be gone for the evening to the museum for night shift and so Hope had run of the house until he returned around a quarter past eleven. This was all well and good, and so she was in no major rush to head out.

Utilizing this Hope turned to Rachel and said, "Hey, want to get the rest of the stuff made? Afterward we can work on a few basic spells so I can get the gist of some of the fundamentals."

Rachel replied, "Maybe on the ingredients, but I can show you a few things here and there in terms of potions and mid-level spell construction. But for sure, we're eating first because that will take a good bit of time."

To Hope this was more than agreeable as the food was nearly ready by her timing. It smelled good though the mixture of meats and the seasonings mixing of what air escaped from the Tupperware bowls. Hope also very much enjoyed the documentary so far as it showed the abuse of the privilege and blatant disregard for the peasants whose price of bread due to the hoarding of flour by the nobility was driving them to the brink of open revolt. The documentary was gripping blending a mix of historical commentary with a tasteful almost documentary drama element. The music, the narration to Hope, was very much on point.

The few minutes to wait for the food was up, and Rachel went to the counter and gave Hope her bowl and both continued to watch the documentary. Hope was amazed at the taste of the food; it was very well-bodied due to the fish and heart, but also the rice and noodle blend gave a wonderful sense of fullness. The cheese provided a very zesty feeling of taste mixed with the seasoning was a mixture of bold and peppery with an undercurrent of savored sweetness. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted.

"Rachel, this is amazing," Hope said after she had a healthy portion.

"Yeah? Well, thanks. We've had to deal with all manner of people bringing all manner of animals to prepare as I have prepared for you, and so we learn all manner of combinations of what can work and what doesn't. But all the same, I'm glad you like it."

Rachel got up, and she headed outside after getting something from the kitchen. Hope heard water running from the spigot outside. Getting up, she was curious to see what was happening. Over the fire-pit, Rachel had placed an enormous pot what Hope would only explain as industrialized cooking in purpose. Heading out, Hope saw that Rachel was putting the pickled pig's feet into the pot along with the sea urchin eggs. Taking a few blends from the shed, Rachel poured in a few drops of what seemed like blood and some yellowish green clear fluid. Rachel then cracked up the heat with the help of a floo, and the fire's flames began to burn intensely. An immense bubbling and steaming began to occur, and hissing began.

Rachel yelled over the noise, "This is a very basic spell but very powerful. Go get the vial I labeled, Jasmine-three grams on the table's left-hand side."

Hope went into the shed and brought the vial tiny as it was. Giving it to Rachel, Hope watched the addition of the jasmine begin a massive flash and a small blast of water and steam into the air. Hope was surprised as this was very much primordial chemistry. Rachel went into the shed, and she poured some rosewater into the mix, and the water turned a deep scarlet, and the sky began to darken.

Rachel waved her hands over the pot a very airy but disconcerting voice began to be heard, "_Igris Matsani Mortivanis Ventalaris, Centrali ect Moshundi."_

Rachel clapped her hands, and a lightening bolt screamed out from the cauldron and went into the air and then arched far off into another part of the town. A thunderous boom was heard, and Hope shook from the very force of the sound. A reddish green orb then she saw began to travel along with the bolt of lightning into the pot. Hope was mystified, and then she saw the door of the house swing open.

"_No!" _was the yell of Rachel's mother as she threw a red flask of dust into the cauldron, and Rachel's eyes went wide as the vial splashed in. The surge was immense so powerful that Hope saw a blinding light flash just a moment…then the air being sucked into the cauldron was indescribable. Hope felt she was in a vacuum and then THUM It was bright and loud as glory and Hope and was sent flying. She could only feel the burning of her eyes, the immense heat in her face, a sound of shattering wood, and she felt her back smash through what she could only assume was a fence. The force had thrown her like a ragdoll as she felt her body flip and spiral. And then she felt the tough impact which she knew she had shattered something of stone.

Hope was dazed, her head buzzing and in a drunken dark grittiness was all she felt that could describe it. She heard very distant booms, and then she felt a cold hand on her face. She barely could open her eyes, and she saw an EMT speak, but she heard no words.

The words were muted entirely and then suddenly she heard it, "_Are you alright?!" _It sounded like she was in a tiny room, and the man was right in her ear. Then her hearing came back. "Are you okay?!" was the man's yells. Hope was just barely able to nod.

The man signaled someone else, and he gently took her by the legs and torso while another man held her head gently. She was put onto a stretcher and put, then carried immediately to the ambulance nearby. The doors slammed, and it took off.

The EMT who had shaken her awake held her hand, and he spoke gently but somewhat loudly, "What happened? Half the block was on fire, and we found you not far from the blast zone."

"I don't know." Hope replied, "Where…where's Rachel?"

The EMT looked at her, "Who's Rachel, sweetheart?"

This frightened Hope a minute, and she wanted to get up, but she was held down, "Hope, sweetie, it's best if you not move. Please, relax. We're almost to the hospital."

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"We have your wallet and your ID; it's okay, we're going to take you to the hospital. Where do your parents work? We need to call them."

Hope gently nodded, and she said, My Uncle works at the Museum in the Entertainment District."

"Thank you so much." The EMT replied,

The ambulance came to a stop, and she was taken out into the ER. The air of the day was sweet and damp, indicating rain. Soon it was replaced by the sterile alcohol smell of the hospital. She listened to the EMT talked to the head nurse, "This is another of the blast. Major lacerations to the back of the skull, and her eyes…they're lilac. We don't know what happened or what was in that blast, but whatever it was it was just nuts."

The head nurse nodded, and he had Hope brought to an immediate treatment room where the antiseptic was applied, then there was another oil she didn't know the name of, but sweet lord did it burn. She screamed as the liquid viciously burned in her incisions, and then the EMT who had brought her in held her hand, firm and tight as one then another, and then she lost count as she just felt the pain and the clack of the staple gun. She was made to lie down on a fresh pillow as the old was soaked in her blood.

As she lay now in silence and contemplation, she heard a voice, "I am glad you're okay." She gently turned her head and saw before her in the corner of her room, the man who spoke.

Her eyes watered as she saw him, "No, no, you're supposed to be dead."

"There are many things I am supposed to be and was supposed to be. But dead is not one of them." The man replied,

"U-uncle E-Erithan? How is this possible?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hope was still delirious, or so she thought. She blinked and still the specter was there. He was sitting in the guest chair of the room. Erethan looked different than she remembered he was gaunter than she remembered him being. Hope lay her head gently back on the pillow, the staple pattern still burning gently in her head. She heard doctors coming, and she shifted her eyes downward. A doctor, a nurse, and Hex came in.

"Hello, Hope," said the doctor, Reginald was the name on the tag, "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days I guess." She replied.

Reginald smiled just a bit, "Good to see you have a sense of humor. Your head had a laceration, but your body is mostly fine. You have a bruised rib or two, but apart from that you're okay. "

Hope heard this and saw Hex sit down where Erethan was formerly sitting she looked carefully around and saw the ghost standing now on the opposite side of the room, merely looking at her, and he motioned with his eyes back to the doctor.

"Do you know what happened last before you were woken up by our EMS responders?" Reginald asked.

Not wanting to admit to what happened that caused the explosion Hope replied, "I cannot remember much at all, save only that there was a flash and then a very long boom which I remember being thrown back and hitting a fence and something else."

"Yes, a wooden fence from what we could tell and your head just barely graced the edge of a stone bird-bath after you knocked it over with the rest of your body, thus why you have your laceration. Is there anything else you remember?" Reginald asked

"No nothing," Hope replied.

Reginald made a note and said to Hex, "You can take her home. Make sure she stays awake a good while before she goes back to sleep again. She should stay up for about four to five hours before she goes back to sleep. Just so that nothing happens."

Hex nodded, "Very good." He replied, "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not really, compared to several others impacted, she is the least of concern, you can take her home. And try to avoid the whole media circus that is outside. Something like this, in a city like this, it doesn't happen hardly ever. I'd advise you go out our east entrance. Also, when showering, it's perfectly safe to shower just not too hot water and mild soaps as we don't want irritation in her scalp. The itching that comes with it will be gone typically by the third day."

Hex and the nurse helped Hope to her feet, and they headed out of the room. Around her, Hope saw various gurneys with individuals with either major cuts and some shards of shrapnel and other with extreme burns the skin black almost charred. The very smell of the place as they made it to the east wing towards the entrance was nearly unbearable. Hex was silent as they walked along and headed out the east exit. He was silent, and Hope for sure didn't like it. He put her in the car and then got in himself. Gently starting the car, he silently maneuvered to get past the seeming army of press at the hospital entrance.

"What happened, Hope? What spell went wrong?" Hex replied.

"There was no sp—"

"Don't you lie to me, girl." He said, his tone truly had changed, "Your eyes are lilac due to a combination of enhanced light and chemicals coming from the residue of blood which congealed. Both only come from combination of select properties in the wrong proportion. Now what happened?"

Hope told him the whole thing and Hex she could see was inwardly screaming. His eyes were sharpened his gaze seeming as is his eyes would pop out of the sockets, his jaw clenched, and his fists were tightly squeezing the steering wheel. He was probably rightly angry that something wasn't done properly but as she had said it wasn't anyone's fault.

Hex seemed to simmer down after a seeming two minutes of contemplating what was to be said. He then sighed saying, "The problem is that your friend's mother added an ingredient that proved far too volatile and she thought she had the right dose because your friend probably had done this before and her mother thought that because of that your friend was still using the formula that she had taught her. The mother probably didn't consider the kid learned more than she gave her credit for."

"And here I thought Rachel was kidding about the science blowing up a whole block," Hope replied.

"No, now you know she was very much correct." Hex replied. Then he sighed saying, "In your room is a collection of the various articles you bought at the market earlier today. The oils and fats have been extracted, and they are in the same bottles as your friend put into them."

"You knew?" Hope asked her eyes wide.

"Oh child, I know almost everything you do. I promised your father I would look after you and I am. But I also understand you want to do things your way. I'm not mad that you thought ahead. But I am mad that you don't trust me to help you with certain things."

"I-I…" Hope began, more frustrated that she was observed in an action she thought was in secret.

"No matter. The simple aspect being I know how your mind works for the better part of your life I raised you, and so I know how you think. What you were trying to do was be prepared. There is no problem with that. But I would have appreciated it if you had told me this from the beginning. "

"I understand, Uncle," Hope replied.

"I'm glad you do; I'm just rather upset that this is how you came to learn such a lesson." Hex said as he pulled into the parking lot of the apartment.

Hope got out of the car and went up to the apartment with Hex, and she said, "I have a question, when can we start weapons training?"

"When you've more suitably healed up. We'll take care of your training later. For right now, take it easy for a bit." Hex said as he opened the door.

Hope went to her room and found all the materials that Rachel had made but in seemingly larger quantities. She sat down at her desk, and she pondered just what to do. She couldn't go out too much of anywhere, so she turned on her computer consulted YouTube for a video or two, and after that she decided to call Robert.

The phone rang a good few moments, and Robert picked up, "Hey Silver, are you okay? I heard about the blast around Skeleton Row, are you okay? I know you were there because I saw you on the local news report."

Hope replied, "I'm as good as I can be considering everything that happened. I got a gash on my head, but I'm okay overall."

"Okay. But man, that blast really rocked the block. My dad is headed over to assess the damage for the city, and he still hasn't come back yet. What happened Silver?"

"I'll tell you sometime, Robbie. Not now. But I don't know what all happened exactly myself." Hope gave as short exhale and then she said, "I know that you have the book from that local author that came out, what was It called again?"

"Oh yeah, _The Four Acts of Tishamoa. _It's a great read. Why?"

"Yeah I've heard a lot about it from some other people in class mostly, and I was wondering when I could give it a read when you have the time?"

"Hell yeah, Silver, I have three copies, and I can give you one of them to read for sure."

"Why do you have three copies?"

"I have one for myself, one for friends to use, and another copy to sell when the author eventually dies."

"It's a bit morbid, isn't it?"

"No more morbid than people buying art from an artist of some renown and waiting till' they die to cash in on their investments. Yes, admittedly, it is morbid, it is even predatory; however, such is the way of the world we live in."

"True." Hope replied, "Would you like to drop by? My uncle will be here, and we can just hang out for a bit."

"Sure, I'll be there in an hour I have to finish up my report on our Shakespeare assignment. Well not finish it but at least make a dent in it to where I don't have to worry so much about it tomorrow."

"Great. I'll see you in an hour and thank you, Robbie." Hope replied.

"Aah, it's what friends are for. I'm going to bring you over some food if you haven't eaten yet."

"Oh no, I ate a while ago. I'm okay."

"Suit yourself. I'll see you in an hour."

Hope hung up the receiver, and she sat on her bed for a bit. There was a lot that she had thought about but most of all she thought about Rachel. All she knew was that she was, in fact, recovered from the blast, but she had no clue as to Rachel's condition overall. Hope knew she couldn't call nor could she exactly go anywhere, so she contented herself for the meantime with what she could as she looked over the weapons book that Hex had given her.

The weapons themselves were beautiful all manner of blades, staves, axes, and some pistols. Hope loved all of them. She desired to go farther back, to emulate the old elements of witchcraft as she knew even at a young age, that people were dictated by superstition. So to complete the illusion of bringing to life nightmarish superstition would be far more beneficial as she would have license to be both practical and theatrical. So, to that end, she started to look more closely at various energy outputs, numerous methods by which she could achieve this effect and from it, how she could achieve practical theatricality. Hope was more than aware of various methods of sorcery at this stage having practice some elements with the help of her friends in private. She knew how to cast fire-torrent, two massive jets of flame from her hands. Hope also knew how to use the lightning rod and lightening enclosure technique but what she wanted to learn was amplification of admittedly novice skills to hazardous potential.

The weapons Hope desired were that range and of a powerful output. However, to do this she had to have a more acute understanding of runes to better control the production as with what was needed for precise but powerful energy output would require of mandatory safeguard so as not to overwhelm the user. Hope found a few staves that had this ideal concept but rather than have a set of staves for different elements Hope preferred the all in one. She heard a knock at her door and Hope opened it to see Walter.

"Hey, Silver-are things going okay? I saw the news, and I heard it on the radio, I wanted to make sure things were alright."

"Oh, hi, Walley. It's good to see you. Yeah things are okay, but I'm just concerned about some people that's all." She headed outside with him into the living room.

"Yeah, I figured that much. You went to Rachel which was not a bad call but what happened that made it all go crazy?" Walter asked.

"Her mother threw something into the cauldron she was using and the next thing you know there was a massive flash of light, and I was sent flying."

"Damn, that sounds like dropping a vial of nitroglycerin to see where you'll be shot off to. Either way, it's not a good idea." Walter said as he reached into his windbreaker and took out two Coke cans. He offered one to Hope who accepted.

"Mmm, still nice and cold. How'd you manage that?" Hope asked

"Simple. I have a few runes on my jacket that turn some pockets into refrigeration units, freezers, or into low-temperature ovens to keep food warm. It's a nice handy little gimmick." Walter explained with a smile.

"Let me ask if you can do that, do you also know of runes with directed energy output?" Hope inquired.

"Yes, I do; however, I think what you are thinking of is for combat and I am not allowed to tackle that just yet. Right now, I'm learning the basics before going off into the deep end. I mean because if I can't truly tap into the basics how in blazes will I be able to master a greater discipline? I'm not, Hope." He said with a bit of a laugh.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I'm just trying to figure things out that's all." Hope told him as Walter reclined more in the sofa.

"Yeah, I understand that but don't make yourself sick over it, Silver. Don't do that. Because, Hope, trust me, there are a lot of questions you will undoubtedly have in your life. The key is not to overthink the questions and most importantly don't overthink your answers as the most carefully laid plan can go awry after the tiniest detail is overlooked." Walter said with a smile.

Hope, however, was indeed in deep thought, deep contemplation for a moment as she stared out the apartment's porch window. Outside it was a beautiful look to the sky almost peach as it showed the suns beginning of its descent into the west. Hope was looking outside, lost in the color, how nice it seemed, so gentle and soothing.

Hope had listened long and hard to what Rachel has said before the blast how there was The Master, how there were other spirits. She still didn't quite understand it all. She felt someone would know but all the same she couldn't quite help but wonder why things were as they were why things happened as they did. Hope still didn't know what happened to Rachel. All she knew was she was furious. Angry at Rachel's damned mother for messing something up which caused the blast. Hope didn't know what caused such a violent reaction, but she trusted what Rachel said now as just that tiny alteration had that effect.

Now, she was here with staples in her head; she was here with now pink eyes. She didn't understand it, but she knew Hex did and Walter, Walter. Why didn't he bring up her eyes? Why didn't he? Surely it would have been one of the first things he would have seen. But she considered how he hesitated when he greeted her. Maybe he was genuinely considering her feelings about that matter thus why he said nothing. Her once beautiful ice-blue eyes like her mother had were now pink.

Hope was silent for some time longer, and then she said, "Walley, why are esoteric people hated?"

Walter was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. Hex was heard to answer, and Robert was allowed in, he came with a case of root-beer, and he had Sarah and Kristoff with him. All were very happy to see hop, but only Kristoff seemed to notice Hope's eyes.

"They're so pretty, Silver, like a lovely lilac bouquet!" He said with a smile.

He loved flowers as a general thing, and so she knew it would make his day to see her eyes. However, everyone else was pretty cordial. Robert reached into his pack and brought out a Styrofoam box and inside was a beautiful double cheeseburger with Muenster cheese and fries.

"Old Mr. Jefferson heard you were not doing the best, so he said this was on him, free of charge." Robert said.

Hope smiled, "I'll thank him when I see him later on this week, thank you guys, for getting this."

"Ah no problem," Robert said with a smile, "anything to help out a sister in need."

"Deserves Puffs indeed," Kristoff said with a chuckle

"Dude, I keep telling you to get off the tube and get outside with the rest of us normal people," Robert said with his face in his palm.

"Anyway," Sarah replied, "We've got some tickets to see _Call of Echelon _later this month, do you want to come?"

"Yeah, it sounds good, but I have some work to do with my uncle this summer," Hope replied.

"Don't worry, Hope." Hex replied as he came in to empty the Livingroom wastepaper basket, "You'll have time to go, how long is it."

"It's just a movie, sir." Robert replied, "So no more than maybe two hours."

"Ah, well, by all means, go right ahead." Hex replied continuing about his work.

Kristoff replied, "Awesome, from what I hear it's a great movie, full of that cool sci-fi tech that Sarah likes, and it's got I think a bit of everything. From what I hear they're doing a series for it and the next film, again, pending if this one does well will be around in two years."

"Krissy, you know the laws of sequels. They are never typically that good." Sarah replied.

"Ah but it's not a sequel it's an anthology of films supposedly building upon the foundations set by those who came before."

"Whose _which _came before, Krissy, not who came before. These are not people but film productions."

"Ah shut up, you Grammar Nazi." Kristoff replied.

"How's about you both shut up before I hammer-toss you out the window," Hope replied.

"Ha! You've got arms like twigs, Silver, good luck." Kristoff said with a hearty laugh.

"How do you know my accident didn't give me special powers? I mean if my eyes turned pink, there's no limit to the endless potential before me."

"So, what you're the Incredible Hulk? I know his eyes turned whitish-green but still, are you the hulk are you going become large and throw us all into the next state? Which with enough terminal velocity in an arc could get us into the next state." Kristoff replied his eyes full with passion.

"Hey nerd, shut up!" Robert replied, "I swear they give this kid a computer, and he'd be dangerous."

"I'm a legend in my mind!" Kristoff replied beaming an idiotic smile.

Hope just to burst out laughing due to her friend's complete and utter joy just being himself. Kristoff as she felt personally probably had no shame. But, Kristoff was one of the most broken people of the entire smiling crew. Hope herself was at the moment very deep in thought.

Looking at Sarah, Hope asked, "Sarah, where can you guide me as to the aspects of what many call the Master, what can you tell me about him? I know your family has served Him for some time, and I was wondering what you could tell me."

Sarah was silent for a moment and then she said, "What can I tell you, there's all manner of things by which to tell you. All manner of things which I can describe from His servants to His prophets, to His appointed kings and judges what would you like to hear first?"

Hope replied after a moment, "I would very much like to know just what exactly He is. I think I have an idea but, to be honest, I'm not all entirely sure."

Rachel took a drink of a cola that Walter had given her, and she said, "Well, He is, in fact, the creator of all we see, He is the creator of our foundations and our standings. He is everything good, and yet he is more than that. To truly describe Him, is-beyond words. I wish I could say more than that, but if I went into all of what the Master is, we'd be here for ages probably literally." She said with a bit of a chuckle at the last bit.

"So let me ask you, what do you think of the concept that Karsook and the Prince of Serenity are brothers?" Hope asked as she sat back on the couch.

Sarah smiled, "I believe it to be very much so. Because Karsook or in the Earthly tongue Satan or Lucifer all synonyms, he was once a son of God even in the texts of Job it is said that the LORD has sons, but he is not among them he once was, but he is no longer after his rebellion."

"Uh-huh and what about Adam and Eve being the literal first humans?"

Sarah smiled, "The proof of Adam's line is in the genealogy of Adam going to Jesus in a list of countless names."

"Where, Sarah?" Walter asked

"I know there at least where it's started, Genesis 4. However, there is more that goes into it, I'm more than sure, but that's where it begins anyway."

"So it's not figurative?" Hope asked, "I thought it was."

"No it's very literal only very rarely is allegory used and even if it is in allegory it is often in the form of parables taught by Jesus and later on by others of his disciples," Rachel explained.

"I see and what do you say to those who say otherwise?" Robert asked

"My answer is simple; always consult the scriptures first. Some people may operate under some false information and others may not understand, and that would be on them." Sarah replied.

Sarah took a drink, "So, why all this sudden interest, Silver? You never seemed to be too curious before."

"It's nothing it's just a couple of things I'm trying to sort out in my head, that's all," Hope replied.

"Okay, but my advice to you is to be careful of what you ingest and at the same time, even when in scriptures as I told Robert, keep the aspects of the scriptures in context. Remember that sometimes it is just what it says, you can read deeper but sometimes as the saying goes when the teacher speaks about "oh the authors mean this when referencing the blue door." When in reality, author says, "It's just a blue door." And don't overthink as many are prone to that and it makes their heads sore."

Hope nodded and then said, "I have a question, does anyone know about any else that happened as a result of the blast?"

Robert replied, "As far as we know, there are no fatalities that we can be sure of. There are several injured, but the fire was the larger issue, and they put it out they said about twenty minutes ago."

Sarah then replied, "I checked in on Rachel who we know whose vicinity this was in, and she'd be in the hospital, but she has a major concussion, they dissuaded any visitors for now."

Hope nodded, "And what of her mother?" she asked.

"She has a few major cuts to her body from the glass in the french doors of their home, but she seems to be okay," Robert replied, "they're stitching her up and stapling her up where needed."

"Hope gently rested her head as she thought, "Thank God."

Hope looked outside, just reflecting on all that had happened, and she asked no one in particular, "We came across the door years ago, are the stories true?"

Kristoff replied, "What stories, Silver?"

Hope said, "The ancient tales, the story of the First Kiss of Dawn, The Silver Age, all of that, is it real?"

Robert replied, "I'd not at all put it beyond the scope of reason. I mean, look at our cousins here. They are steadily advancing to where our people were centuries ago before the great flood."

Hope said, "Yeah, that's true. Guys, I'm sorry I'm getting quite tired, can we please resume our talk at another time?"

Robert smiled, "Hell yeah, Silver, you call on us, we're always a call away. Come on guys let's go down to see Pete; dad said he's working on a new display for the museum. Hey Mr. Hex, is that true that they have a new display on the way?"

Hex smiled, "I don't know, ask your friend Pete since he seems so well informed."

Walter replied, "Ah, Mr. Hex, why do you have to be like that?"

They all laughed and then headed out as Hope took a breath. Hex came in, and he looked at her. He was moved to pity for her folly, but Hex knew she had to learn on her own. He sat down across from her, and she looked as if she were in actual pain.

He went to the next room, and after uttering a chant over a large glass, he came back, and he handed it to her with a straw, "Drink, this is for the pain and to keep you awake, remember you have to stay awake for a few hours still."

"What is it," she asked, "It looks odd."

"It's very good, it's sweet and smooth and will get rid of your pain, just drink it." He replied, not harshly but as soft as he could.

Hope drank, and she found that the mixture was in fact delightful and just the right amount of cold, her eyes lit up, and she drank a bit more hurriedly.

"Little drinks, Hope, little drinks, too much and you'll get a brain-freeze as they say here." Hex said.

Hope took notice and did better, "This is good, Uncle, this is good, what is it?"

"It's a specialized form of coffee sweetened with rose petals and a slight undercurrent of chocolate." Hex replied, "I put a pinch of caffeine in there to keep you awake. And later on, if you'd like I can give you something your mother loved to drink because I know that with all the adventures she went on she banged her head up more times than you can count."

Hope nodded, and she continued to drink while Hex got up for a moment. He took a moment pacing the floor and then sat down.

He said gently, "Hope I know you've been looking at weaponry to begin training. But there are some things that you have to bear in mind while choosing a weapon. Do you want to dedicate yourself to strength training, or internalized energy control? And there are a whole bunch of options, so let me ask, if you could, what would you choose?"

Hope stopped drinking, and she put the glass down, "Honestly I'd like a bit of a blend of both ranged and support for combat. I see myself as a going-into-the-fray kind of woman, but I also want strong support if things get a bit too hairy."

"I see, and do you see yourself as more a stationary fighter, more mobile?" Hex asked.

"I see myself as somewhat fixed but if I am fixed a want a good deal of power with a good spread of it in terms of range, coming out. But I would also like a kind of mobile base because cars annoy me to no end."

"I see, so field versatility while stationary but immense range while moving around in general." Hex said as he sat down, "Well let's conquer your basics of fighting where you'd have as a base of operations will come later when we both have saved enough money. As it stands right now, you have minimal knowledge, but over the summer, I will grow that. Also, I want to teach you some methods and techniques to blend our esoteric gifts with more common street knowledge. I'm not saying we should hide a lot, but too much attention is bad for both of us."

"So what would you propose we do, uncle?" Hope asked.

"Simple, you and I will train over this summer, we will perfect your potion-making skills, and later on we will work on a more decided weapon style. Afterward we will begin to travel the world both in search of the keystones which will help us in attaining what we need, and additionally we will further your schooling in what is necessary as we travel to make your aspirations of a mobile headquarters come to fruition."

"What kind of disciplines do you have in mind?" Hope asked.

"Ones to benefit you both in combat and as a skill-set to get better employment in the world if one of us gets incarcerated as I tell you now, that is a real risk of what we will be doing."

"If that is the case, Uncle, there is very much something I'd like to pursue," Hope said.

"And what is that?" he asked.

"A blend of physical skills of learning how to pick a lock and master picking locks, and for two learning the ins and outs of radio-signals concerning broadcast and reception. One is for more personal reasons while the latter is to perfect my own desired range and to help the aspect of a mobile base."

"Very well, if that is what you wish, you shall more than have it. I know a very good friend at the local radio-station and while not in training with me during summer nights you will work with him in the mornings learning what you wish to learn. Also, ask your friend Robert to teach you how to pick locks, he's very skilled with that, as are his family. Besides this time management will teach you how to properly economize your time during the day as if you are too tired for evening training, we won't have the lesson, but you won't get to progress and those lessons you may not fully master if you are not attentive to your internal system."

Hope nodded, "Very good, so when do we begin?"

"Soon enough, my dear girl, soon enough. In the meantime, I have a book I want you to read." He gave her a book from a nearby cabinet, _Basic to Advanced: The art of A.I. components and their calibration. _

"If your art is what I think it is, this will come in great use later on." Hex said.

"Very good, thank you, Uncle." Hope replied, "As I'm awake now, I'll start reading, when can I work with your friend at the station?"

"In the next two to three days, pending when I can get hold of him." Hex replied.

Hope nodded, "Okay, well, thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet, if your focus somehow shifts, I've made arrangements for that; however I want you to stick to this as best you can for as long as you can and see what comes of it."

Hope nodded and with this agreement made, the night passed at its usual pace with Hope reading the book Hex had given her until she was able to go to sleep. She brought the book with her to her room, and she lay gently down on her side as it was still too much of an inconvenience pain-wise to sleep on her back. And so, after a few adjustments she instead decided to sleep on her stomach. This position was far more beneficial. But before she fell asleep, she thought Hope saw something; she felt she saw Erethan right down the length of her bed sitting in a chair. Frightened at first, she blinked twice, and on the second blink, he was gone.

**AN: I hope you enjoy this chapter. The Concept of the Master and Karsook as I have said are from the Author Christopher Diaz Jr's **_**Across the Door **_**Series specifically **_**The Origins of the Torisicoro Archipelago. **_**Please give it a read if you want because they are excellent read which helps to give this story in addition to my interpretation, a fleshed-out form of the theological context by which I am basing this fic around. **

**See you next time. **

**AWL.**


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN: I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last update. I've been very busy with school and just with life in general. From this point onward, I'll try to be more constant. Thank you all for those of who you read. Please, read, review, and enjoy. **_

_**Love, **_

_**A .W .L.**_

Chapter 8

Hope awoke, and she was sitting in a metal chair, and it was dark around her except for the light that was above her. The air she noticed was fresh as a fresh rain form of sweet. She looked around and saw the window cracked open. By all appearance it seemed to be night. She looked around her. Dark edges seemed to be her only form of focus. The light above was growing hot, but at the same time she noticed the bugs dancing around it, drawn it much as the loadstone exercises its might over iron.

"Well," the voice came, the sound now growing oh so familiar, "let's see where we stand, Hope. You desperately sought to right the wrong done to another, you seemed to put it out of your mind, but then went to a friend who in her way, wanting to help you, almost blew the two of you sky-high." Erethan appeared, this time dressed in nearly all-black except a navy blue short-sleeve shirt. He stood in front of her, "A right mess, that was. Now tell me, what's your new plan? Helped poor deluded Uncle Hex on a quest to retake your homeland?"

Hope shook her head, "You're not real! You died years ago." She yelled as loud as she could. There was silence a long moment as she opened her eyes after trying to rid herself of this ghost of the past. There he stood just as real and physical as ever.

'

"Maybe you don't understand, and that's okay." Erethan replied as he pulled up his chair from the shadows, sitting in front of her, "There's so very much to take in these days, I can understand the confusion."

"How are you still talking to me? Why are you still here?" Hope asked, trying to avoid his gaze from behind navy blue aviators, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I'm here to protect you, Hope. As best that I possibly can." Came the reply, "I made a promise to your father I would do my best in that regard."

"But you were killed. How is it possible you are still here? I see you in my sleep. I see you in the waking world. Why?!"

"Because it is what I have chosen to do." Erethan replied, "Because you were very precious to your father who I held as a brother, and because of him, I'm not going to leave your side. I can't protect you from everything, but I can protect you, at least a good portion from yourself. If that means blasting a caldron full of energy then so be it, if that means giving you pink eyes, so be it."

"Give me pink eyes? That was you? Is Rachel—"

"I'm sorry but Rachel is dead. In order to protect you from losing a portion of your soul through murder, one had to be sacrificed. I wish there was an easier way but there wasn't."

"Why?" Hope asked, "She was my friend."

"She could read the pain inside you; she knew very well what was within you, and using the ingredients she intended to curse Paul and kill him right before your eyes. However, to stop her, I possessed Rachel's mother, chucked in a disruptor and the rest, well is history."

"Paul fucking deserved to die!" Hope yelled at the shade before her, "Killing a child, and you think he deserved to live?!"

Erethan looked at her, "I know what you feel. I had the same feeling when I was of age to you. But what you must understand, it is not your place to judge him. His life is not lived yet. There is still time for him to be changed of his own accord. Who are you to decide who lives and who dies?"

"He killed an innocent girl, an innocent girl, Uncle! She was not even ten years old!" Hope retorted

"Of course. And I understand very much where your anger is rooted, but it is not up to you anymore. You threw the gun in the ocean; you unwittingly helped him. Not that such a thing is your fault. However, it is quite wrong that in the light of new evidence you would gladly shovel Paul into the earth, but why? Only because you were impacted personally."

Hope stopped, "Wha—what's your point? She asked.

"Simple, that the only reason you care about Paul's vengeance or rather exacting it upon him, is because he took someone dear to you. We've been over this before. Because you Hope Mountbatten were impacted negatively by the actions of someone, you want them gone. That's all this is at the end of the day. Your Uncle Hex is trying to curve this into a more productive measure. But for him, largely. He knows you need direction, and he'd give it to you, but you'd be serving his purposes at the end of this."

"So, what? I'm a puppet?" Hope asked.

"I never said you were, but you're in danger of becoming one. Because Hex is trying to sculpt you to take back your homeland and suffice to say, well it will happen but not in the way he could ever anticipate it, nor you."

"So, you can see into the future?"

"I can see only so far as The Master allows me to see, no more, no less. But I want you to guard yourself in the time to come. I can help you; The Master can surely help you far greater than I. But, you have to be willing to accept that help."

"What is to come?" Hope asked.

"I cannot tell you that now. In time you will see what is to come, but remember this if you remember anything. Those who greet with a smile are not always your friends and also those in power as much as they may proudly tout a law and enforce it on others, seldom is it self-enforced. Advisors are there to advise, but be wary as they will poison your drink if they think they can take your place."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I've been around a lot longer than you have, my dear niece. I know what is to come, and as much as I may wish to save you from certain pains, some pain you have to go through to grow. You will understand one day. You will see him, the mad and raging boar storming to break down your door. And your terror will be great. But it won't overcome you if you don't allow it to."

At that moment, Hope awoke to the gentle and growing noise of her radio. The song gently playing was The Guess Who's _No Sugar Tonight. _The rhythm was nice and smooth. Hope got up and stretched as she looked at the rising sun through her blinds. Looking over at her dresser, she saw her book on radios and radio signals. Sighing, she got dressed the music setting her pace.

_In the silence of her mind, _

_Quiet movements where I can find_

_Grabbing for me with her eyes_

_Now I'm falling from her skies._

_No sugar tonight in my coffee_

_No sugar tonight in my tea _

_No sugar to stand beside me _

_No sugar to run with me. _

Now, Hope was ready. Her hair was set in its ponytail, and she put on her coat and looked at herself in the mirror. Black shirt, dark navy jeans, and a deep purple leather trench-coat far from flattery. She wanted more nuance, more balance if not in material than at least in color presentation. Sarah had put good work into the coat. But tonight, was not quite the day to take it for a test drive. Turning a moment, she saw portions of the staple-work harsh and almost putrid looking underneath her silver-locks. Was all this asymmetry truly worth the life of a child-murderer? She honestly wondered.

Hex was already up and gone to his job. "_Must be full-on dead set on his priorities today." _Hope mused as she opened the cabinets. Taking a packet of oatmeal, she poured the dehydrated flakes into a bowl. Putting the kettle on to boil, she sat down at the table and began thinking about a few things. Erethan was around, that much was evident. He had lingered, but what indeed had allowed him to continue as he did? He said he chose to do this, to watch over her. But why? That was the real question.

Hope believed that death would relieve you of most mortal obligations. Personally, she couldn't see why someone would care to watch over someone after death. Life to her seemed to have enough burdens of its own to warrant care for another to be exactly top priority. But in the end she knew that was too harsh. Hex had taken her in from the time she was young. He had watched over her, fed her, housed her. He didn't have to do that at all. There were systems in place to be a catch-all for those who were not as fortunate as she. But she also considered what Erethan had said that Hex had more or less wanted to direct her. He was making her a pawn for his ambition; she knew that well enough. At the same time, Hope would be lying to herself if she didn't have a genuine vested interest in taking back Ledgerdomian. If not for her father's sake to at least see it again, or what remained of it. The local rumor regarding the state of things was far from ideal.

"_Even if Uncle Hex has a plan to get back to the country? What then? What's after that? If he creates a vacuum it'd be just as bad if not worse than if he had never set foot in the place at all after all this time. I'm sure he has a plan, or at least, I hope he does. But then, I think he does. Why put so much into a job that I have passion for if he didn't intend to use it?"_

These thoughts and more were in Hope's mind as the gentle rumble of the water in the kettle was becoming pronounced. Hope checked the clock. It was 7:15, and in ten minutes she'd have her oatmeal, sit on the couch and watch the Animal Planet Special she taped last night, _Animal Face-Off. _She, of course, knew the show was childish and stupid, but it wasn't for the CGI fights she watched it like she knew Walter did. She was far more intrigued as to the aspects of the elements of the robotics that were built into it to give mockups of realistic damage and then pumped to the extreme.

"_Strange," _she thought, "_why is everything extreme? Always on TV it's extreme this or that. It's a really stale marketing gimmick."_

In time, her water began to boil, and Hope poured the water out onto the oatmeal and sealed it with a lid to let the oatmeal properly fluff. Heading to the living room, she turned on the TV and switched over to DVR. As she waited for the devices to warm up, the gentle wail of the train sounded far off in the distance. This time of day, it was the massive freighter. That tell-tale wail sounded twice through her day, once before heading to school and once when she got home and had settled in with Hex to watch the news at five in the evening. Honestly, she was grateful she wasn't as close to the tracks as some. Near Robert's house, the train came so close it felt like everything was going through a small earthquake, and the horn sounded so that you had to yell to get your point across or at worst wait until the damn thing had rumbled through.

Today, it was mainly quite calm. If history was any indicator and in an area like this it generally was, the train would have three stops and three significant freighters through the week because the first week of every month, it seemed the town was given what Hope and her friends called, "Social Allowance." It was a drop-off of significant supplies for local stores, which some opted for rail delivery while others preferred trucks. Pending who you asked, the owners of the various stores would take truck risk over freight because it was timelier and more subject to direct demand. Whereas the trains offered a unique benefit in that it could be used by those with higher connections in the esoteric society could get better quality quicker. Although, how this balanced out was the train food was mostly frozen solid even though it was of far superior aspects both quality and cost-wise.

The DVR had finished, and Hope pressed play while the rundown of the show began. As she sat, she was slowly growing more and more agitated. "Fucking Crap!" she began to slam her fist repeatedly against the couch. As she continued, she just kept yelling, "Fucking, mother-fucking crap! Not my place to judge?! Not my fucking place to judge?! Just let everything go laddie-da as usual? What the hell kind of holier-than-thou malarkey is that?"

Sighing heavily, she still couldn't quite let all that had happened go. She checked her watch. There was still a full hour and a half before school. Getting up, she took twenty dollars out of Hex's stash writing an IOU and putting it into the small container. Heading to _Michael's _she went int and bought an ice-cold sparkling lemonade. As she drank, she sat down at the main window-counter and looked outside.

"Nice view, huh?" a voice asked beside her.

Annoyed and not wanting small-talk, she turned to the speaker said, "Yes, it's—_beautiful."_

Her tone changed in the last word as she saw a very handsome young man around her age. A very sharply chiseled jaw accentuated his face, his skin was very nice to look at as well, a deep copper but not jasper. His eyes were reddish-brown and his hair combed over to the right was so shiny Hope could have sworn it was metallic glass with the way the lights of burger shop struck his hair. His clothing was very sharp as he wore a sky-blue button-up shirt with light gold baroque accents of stitching along the ribs buttoned by matching bright gold metal buttons. Tan slacks sheathed his legs down to his feet, which had finely polished Rockport deep-brown loafers.

"Hello, My name's Henry Macon. I'm new to this little city. What's your name?"

Hope remembered her courteous aspect and said, "Hope, but my friends call me Silver?"

Henry smiled, "Ah, for your hair no doubt."

Hope chuckled, "Clearly. It obviously isn't my eyes now is it?"

"Well, Silver, I was going to call you Pinkie. But then I thought what a cruel name to have. Plus, if you had pink eyes in a school setting with most teens like us being the pricks we are, the pseudonym Pink- Eye isn't particularly catchy. Unless you're, Ms. Pink?"

Hope smirked, "Ms. Pink?"

He smiled at her, "Hey, why am I, Ms. Pink?"

Hope smiled back, "Because you're a faggot, alright?"

"Why can't we pick our own colors?"

Hope smiled, getting up, "No way, no way. Tried it once, it doesn't work. You get four guys all fighting over who's gonna be Mr. Black, but they don't know each other, so nobody wants to back down. No way. I pick. You're Mr. Pink. Be thankful you're not Mr. Yellow."

Henry took a more dramatic pose with his arms out, "Ms. Pink sounds like Ms. Pussy. How 'bout if I'm Ms. Purple? That sounds good to me. I'll be Ms. Purple."

Hope gestured, changing her tone more a Jersey accent, "You're not Ms. Purple. Some girl on some other job is Ms. Purple. Your Ms. PINK."

Henry burst out laughing, "Such a great movie."

"I know, the ending was so fucked up," Hope said, sitting back down.

"Forget the ending, Mr. Blonde was one of the most messed up freakshows I've ever seen."

"Ah, he's just a psychopath sadist, standard character as far as Tarantino is concerned."

Henry chuckled, "True, tell me, what's the nightlife like out here?"

"Nightlife is passable for a town of this size; it's okay. Kinda' what you'd expect from this area. Football games every Friday night this time of year and when it's not that it's softball or basketball. But true nightlife is the next city over. This is more like your small-town in the middle of nowhere."

"Sounds just like what I need, or rather what my family needs. From the hellhole we came from, this place would seem to my folks like a paradise."

"Where are you from?" Hope asked.

"I'm from just suffice to say, a far-flung land. The closest parallel would be that of Russia."

Hope smiled, listening to him, "So what brought you here?"

"A lot of things. My parents wanted a better job or rather a more assured carryover of their previous job, and the political climate was far from ideal for what they wanted for my family and me."

"What kind of business were your parents in?" Hope asked after she took another drink of her beverage.

"We've made our living largely as fuel distributors in areas not too dissimilar to this back home. We made quite a substantial fortune from that, and as politics began to shift, we relocated here."

"So—you're oil people."

"I'd say we deal more in the finished product and not oil itself."

"Oh, okay, so you're gasoline fortune people."

"My father wanted propane personally to be his fortune. But I remember mother saying to him, "What is more frequent? People thirst for gasoline due to their vehicles or grilling in the summer. You are thinking too seasonal, Rajesh, think year-round for maximum profit."

"So the answer is, yes?"

He looked at her, smiling after a light laugh, "You are brazen, aren't you, Silver?"

"So what grade are you transferring into?"

"I'll be in tenth-grade, and yeah I know I'm transferring a bit late but my credits transfer, we made sure of that before planting our flag."

"Oh, so you're in my grade," Hope said almost too gleefully.

Henry smiled, taking out a piece of paper, "Can you help me navigate this labyrinth of education?"

Looking at the piece of paper, she said after a pause, "Oh, you're in the advanced classes. How did you get so many of these so early?"

"I mastered several of what your school initially offered back home, and so they are working my schedule derived from Eldrige Academy."

"Oh," Hope said now feeling a bit disheartened but also thinking, "_Damn, he's advanced. He's taking classes with the seniors."_

"Is there something wrong, Hope?" Henry asked.

Snapping back to present she said, "Oh, no. It's just I am a good deal surprised. I didn't know your homeland's education was that advanced."

"We had specialized standards desired of us is the best way to say it," Henry said looking outside.

Hope was silent a moment, then it occurred to her, "Hey, we have the Solstice Dance soon. Would you like to come with me?"

Henry looked at her and said, "You know—sure. I could use some social interaction. But first, you must guide me through the labyrinth."

Hope smirked, "Okay, Perseus, I'll lead you through to your Minotaur."

Henry returned her smile, "Oh Ariadne, if only you know how wondrous a service it was you bestow upon me with your piercing eyes. Guide me through, and I shall rescue from the depths of Minos's madness. Away with me once this bloody deed is done. Away with me to treasured Athens."

"Ah, so long as you don't leave me for Dionysus at the behest of your true mistress Athena."

Henry smiled, his eyes feeling to Hope like warm embers on a cold night, soothing and inviting, "Never."

Hope smiled a bit even though internally she was screaming. She checked her watch and said, "We have a bit of time before we go to the stop for the bus. So, what do you want to talk about?"

Henry looked at her, "What would you _like _to talk about?"

"Well, why not tell me about your home? What was it like?"

Henry began small rhythmic drumming with his knuckles, and he said after a moment, "Well, what is the best way to say it? Think of it as the epitome of the old way of rule. We have a ruling family, but like England it is more akin to a figurehead. But a lot of the government responsibilities are that of the individual territory overseers."

Hope nodded, "So, like, what are your people's policies?"

"Well, the easiest way to say is the woman in charge of our country, her family has been in the main aspect of power since back to the early Victorian Era. Her policies or rather I should say her family's policies, some would call them draconian, but my family was more fortunate to be on the shall I say, laxer side of things."

"Draconian? Okay, how old world are we talking here?"

"Oh, let's see. Well, better yet, what aspect would you like to focus on?"

"Give an idea of just one of the policies, that's all."

"Okay, well, let's look at prohibition of alcohol. See, our nation has struggled equally with the aspect of drunkards and the need for sobriety. We've had I'd say a tug of war between prohibition of alcohol and free use. So eventually after a seeming four decades of this battle, we realized we couldn't undo a privilege that lasted centuries and rather than have illicit acts of production, we decided to nationally subsidize the alcohol beverage business, and from that we make a ton of cash to put towards our infrastructure."

Hope nodded, "Okay, that's kinda' standard, what is one of your more older-fashioned stances?"

Henry smirked, "Oh simple, we don't have prisons."

"What do you have? If not prisons, then what?"

"Trial by combat. It's a huge spectator ordeal; if you can last five rotations of fighters, you can go back into society but convicted and hardened killers, not just one and one aspect, hardened killers are sentenced to fight to the death becoming celebrated fighters."

"Gladiators. You have Gladiators?"

"Yes. It's our second aspect of primary income for our nation in the summer months."

Hope was given pause, "What's your chief income?"

Henry smiled a bit and reached into his bag, "Here a pamphlet of my nation. A history of rulers and policies. Perhaps you would like to go one day?"

Hope took the pamphlet, which was sizeable thick the title, _Raso-Marat: A History from Dukedom to Socialist Machine. _

Hope smirked, "You seriously are a Socialist?"

Henry shrugged, "Yeah, why?"

"It doesn't work, Henry."

"It does. It's just a softer word for placated slavery. The key is not to be everyone else but to be of use to the machine."

"But, your literature, it says you were once proud capitalists. How the fuck does that work? How did you shift?"

"I can answer you; the government wanted a united standard of quality, intuition, and practicality. They figured the very best way to do this was to eliminate the private sector. What is prized in my land is your mind, not your product, because we all produce for the good of the nation. To put it bluntly, you can critique the government, we didn't take that freedom away, but Socialism in many ways, in our land at least, it controls to the nth degree. But the thing is what you fail to realize is that Capitalism and Socialism are the polar ends of the swinging pendulum. Capitalism accounts for everyone's greed to serve himself. Socialism negates that in its original decrees, encourages it in others."

"How so to encourage it?"

"Productivity. The more you do for your country, the more you are given benefit within your sector of designation."

"Sector of Designation? What are you told what to do from birth?"

"Exactly. Everyone is a number, and every number put into a group, and every group forms the smaller parts of the greater whole of the government machine. No life is wasted; no life is deemed invaluable."

Hope put the pamphlet in her pocket, "I'll read more of this later. When can I see you so we can discuss this?"

"How about after school? Can we arrange a study-time between us?" Henry asked.

"Sure. But first, let's get to school. Come on; the stop is a bit of a way away."

Hope walked with Henry on the way to the bus-stop. As they walked on, Hope's hand itched to read the pamphlet as she walked. Hope was bursting with questions as when she closed it she saw all manner of intriguing policies within. But she wanted to make this last as long as it could. Sure, Henry was a socialist, but to Hope his looks far outweighed what she felt he had been brainwashed to believe. As Henry walked alongside her, he thought very much along the same lines towards Hope. They didn't know it, but the powers that be were aligning for both of their minds to meld into a new form of thought.

Approaching the stop, Hope saw Walter, Robert, and Sarah. Robert waved at her and saw Henry. Henry introduced himself and shook all their hands, and once that was out of the way Robert spoke.

"So, Henry, what brings you to our corner of the woods?"

"Opportunity. Opportunity to learn from you all."

Sarah nodded, "And what is it you wish to learn?"

"Whatever you will teach me." He replied.

Walter, however, was fascinated by Henry's clothes, "Dude, nice threads man. Where'd you get them?"

"Oh, I got them from back home. We have a blossoming retail sector called Selitzara."

"Oh, I've heard of them!" Sarah said, "Great products."

"Thank you. We do our very best." Henry said as he locked eyes with Sarah.

Hope saw this. However, she held her tongue. She'd made significant headway with her Adonis, and she wished to stay ahead and to remain ahead she knew sometimes required people to be people. The school bus came along, and the doors opened. Hope sighed as she saw the withered faced of Mitch at the wheel. The asshole of the bus-drivers. But that was fine. As they got onto the bus, Henry looked over the students around him, all of them well kept, seemingly kind in disposition. But he knew better than to trust in simple appearances. He headed towards an open seat, and Hope sat alongside him.

Robert watched Hope and Walter looked uneasy, "She seems awful cozy with him, huh?"

Robert's reply was silence. In his heart he was scared. He knew who Henry was or rather what his clothes signified. But in response to Walter he said, "Let her be, Wally. Let's just keep our eyes open. Don't to anything to hasty and just give the guy a chance." Meanwhile in his mind he thought, "_Silver, be careful. Be very careful, Silver."_

AN: Thank you for reading. Have a great week.


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